Chris' Chronicles: Complete Edition
by Scolaro
Summary: Dimension travels are possible! Where would YOU go if had this chance? Legal disclaimer: This is not an interactive story! The question only attempts to evoke interest and suspense in the reader! No violation of rules at this point. Thank you.
1. Foreword

Chris´ Chronicles - Foreword

First of all - I can´t stand Mary Sues.

Most of the time original characters are built like supermodels, have perfect manners and 'even' a brain (let´s face it: every single one of them seems to be a bloody genius), always do the right thing, everybody adores them and they always get the love interest the writers would like to see themselves with - adding it up: those guys are perfect.

There are exeptions, of course, but the typical Mary Sue has always the same characteristics.

'Chris´ Chronicles' has an original character, alright, but it´s NOT a typical Mary Sue!  
I insist on that!

This is "reality-stuff", which means Chris is a person like you and me getting confronted with dimension travelling (Very similar to the Slider universe). No superpowers, just brainwork. You, the readers, are meant to consider what you´d be doing in this situation.

She can´t do magic, or fly or do anything else "we" couldn´t do.  
To keep this "real" she´ll learn a few tricks on the way or get a little gadget, but she´s neither a supermodel, nor a genius.

If you can´t live with these restrictions - don´t read on.

I love reviews - even if they´re not positive, but if you feel like posting a negative one, do me the favour and tell me exactly what you didn´t like, _why_ you didn´t like it and - if you can - how you would change it.

And now enough of that: Turn the page and enjoy 'Chris´ Chronicles - The Complete Edition'. :-)

Wyrd Sister


	2. I The first Step

  
  
Author: Wyrd Sister  
Fandom: Gargoyles  
Disclaimer: I know you know, so I keep it brief: I own nothing apart from Chris and the characters I make up on the way.  
Unfortunately I´m not making money with this story. But presents and cheques (and most of all: reviews) will be gratefully accepted…  
  
Rating: Suitable for all ages  
Summary: Dimension travels are possible after all! Join Chris on her first adventure in another world. Can the Clan help her getting back in her own world?

* * *

I don´t really know how to begin.  
So I just write down what´s going through my mind.  
  
You are about to hear the story of a traveller between worlds, between dimensions that have only one thing in common: All of them had been created by people of this world – my home world, the world you´re living in. My name is Christine, I´m 20 years old and live in Germany. And not long ago I had an experience most people dream of all their lives…   
  
**Chris´ Chronicles  
  
_Journal of a Dimension Traveller_**   
  
Part 1 - The first step  
  
It was a bright summer day, a Friday, to be exact. I was just coming home from work and – after a quick snack (a bowl of cereals, followed by ice-cream - typical for a single, who hates washing dishes – and loves sweets) I turned the computer on, checked emails and glanced at the TV every once in a while. Reruns of Star Trek NG. Seen all, of course, but it´s nice to have them as kind of background entertainment while you´re doing other things.  
  
Anyway, I got the emails and some paperwork done and after flipping through the TV-magazine and finding nothing interesting I turned the set off and took the book I´d bought on the flea-market only an hour ago. Of course you´re asking yourself now: Why is this girl reading a book, at home, on a Friday evening?  
The simple answer is: I didn´t have a date and actually I love having Friday evenings all to myself. They just seem to pass so quickly. I´m not exactly a loner, but enjoy having time for reading and thinking. And – okay, okay, watching TV also, I admit it.  
  
The book I´d bought from this strange bearded man still smelled a bit like him, like peppermint and cough syrup. It would probably vanish soon.  
It´s title was "A Guide For The Dimensional Traveller" (surprised I´d noted the absence of an author´s name) and I expected it to be some parody of "The Hitchhiker´s Guide Through The Galaxy", especially since the introduction started with "You _don´t_ need a towel!"  
The cover had been spotty and shabby, but after I carefully wiped it with a damp cloth the brown leather quickly shone through the dirt again. Funny that they still produced books with leather cover, usually they´re only made of cardboard, just very old (and expensive) books are covered in leather. I´d only paid a few bucks for this one, so it was probably no real leather.  
  
Hopping onto my bed and turning the radio on (I always need background sound) I opened the book and started to read.  
It wasn´t easy to read at first, mainly because the text was written in old German (another strange thing for a book about a humorous topic) and you have to get used to it, but also because some passages didn´t seem to make sense.  
  
After a while I began to blink, then – suddenly – I was so tired I could hardly find the switch to turn out the lights. When the room went dark I had the brief impression that the book was glowing blue-ish, but a second glance found no strange light from it and I decided it must have been my imagination. Yeah, right! Was I naive…  
  
In the middle of the night I woke up and found the whole room filled with blue light. The book was still on my nightstand, sitting upright, the pages fluttering, but there was no wind.  
_"That´s just a dream."_ I thought, slightly amused by the crap I was always dreaming of, but not frightened.  
  
Of course not.  
  
Then the glowing grew stronger and a round circle built up around the book, growing bigger till it was nearly as high as the ceiling. _"You know where this comes from"_, I thought to myself, _"TV, of course: Quantum Leap, Stargate or Sliders. And too much ice-cream."_  
  
The first real doubt about this being a dream came when I felt a strong wind blowing through the room and making me shiver. It grew stronger and stronger, pressing me in the direction of the book and the center of the blue circle. I fought against it, but suddenly I was sucked into the circle, head first and fell through waves of light. For the first time in my life I lost conciousness.

-----ooooo-----

I awoke from a strange noise and the cold. Had I forgotten to close the window in my bedroom? Slowly my eyes flew open and after a brief moment of total disorientation my mind stated with conviction: _"You´re not at home. You´re not even inside."_  
Were the hell was I?  
I sat up and pain shot through my head and muscles. Obviously I had been lying on the ground for a couple of hours. Right next to me I could see a red-brown brickwall, all around me were grey junk bags. It seemed they had covered me a bit from the cold. But everything I saw looked…weird somehow…no: "wrong". I couldn´t put my finger on it, but something definitely looked wrong.  
_"What´s the last thing you remember?"_ I asked myself, forcing my mind to recall my last concious moments. There was this network problem we had had at work, my collegues in the IT-department and I had tracked it down to a broken cable, lunch with my friend Matthias, there was the flea-market, a telephone call…wait a minute: the flea-market! The book! Suddenly it clicked and I remembered what had happened at night. Or what I thought I had seen happening.  
But this didn´t really help me figuring out what _had_ happened.  
I got up and made a quick check. Nothing broken, just a few bruises and cuts, I would survive.  
Thank goodness I still wore jeans and t-shirt instead of a pyjama. Usually I don´t fall asleep with my street-clothes still on.  
_"First I´ve got to find out where exactly I am, then what happened and then I´ll contact my friends." _I thought, walking out of the small alley onto a busy street – and stopped right away.  
_"We don´t have this kind of buildings at home!"_  
High buildings.  
Like skyscrapers.  
_Very_ high skyscrapers!  
Where the hell was I?!  
People were walking and talking all around me and suddenly it occurred to me that they were talking English.  
Where the hell…?!  
I felt like Sam Becket from Project Quantum Leap. Only he always had to find out not only _where_ he was, but also _when_. And as far as I remember he had never leapt into a foreign country. I was just glad I could understand and speak the language quite well after spending a year travelling through Australia. In a distance I saw a newspaper box and started to walk over, while watching the people on the street - not few of them talking into small mobiles.  
  
Then I was there and my jaw dropped when I read the first few lines of the paper:  
I was in New York!

-----ooooo-----

_"This can´t be true, I must still be dreaming! In a moment I´ll wake up and this will be gone. Just another weird dream that feels realistic."_ I thought and waited for the proof of my theory – the sound of my alarm clock, the familiar barking of the neighbour´s dog.  
None of the above.  
After a while I did what I always do when I know I´m dreaming: I started to explore.  
  
Walking through the streets of New York (or what I thought NY looked like for I´d never been there in my life and only seen it on TV) I saw taxis and other cars moving slowly forward, people in suits and costumes carrying briefcases were quickly passing others who looked like they only possessed what they had in their shabby plastic bags. It was obviously around 9 o´clock in the morning, although my watch showed 6 pm 45.  
  
I moved on in no particular direction, impressed by the buildings and the buzz along the streets, feeling as part of a gigantic ant hill. But still, something felt "wrong", the way buildings and people looked…the colours…but I couldn´t focus on this thought and decided to leave it till the solution would hit me in the face.  
  
After walking around for a few hours my stomach made clear it needed something to eat. At this point I decided to treat the whole situation as real. After all, I´ve never been hungry in a dream – I may have eaten something, but I´ve never been hungry. And – boy – was I _starving!_  
  
But what can you do when you´re stuck in a foreign city, without money? Uncomfortably I looked around and tried to think of what my favourite TV-heroes would do. Didn´t help much. Finally I entered a fast food restaurant and asked for work, but without a work permit the owner couldn´t hire me. Right, American law. Wouldn´t have been different at home. However, when she saw my desperate face the lady told me to wait for a moment and brought a bag containing two hamburgers, french fries and a coke. I thanked her and left the restaurant quickly, feeling like a beggar.  
  
In a nearby park I wolfed down the food and threw the bag into a bin.  
What now?  
_"Try to contact your friends and family."_ a voice in my mind told me firmly and I had to admit this sounded reasonable. I still didn´t know how I had gotten here, but at least I could inform my family where I was and tell them I was okay.  
And they could send me some money, by the way.  
  
I checked out a few internet cafés, but when I told the owners I had no money right now and promised to pay them later they didn´t let me use the terminals. Frustrated I moved on. Should I go to the German embassy and ask for help there?  
_"Yeah, and tell them that I was at home just a few hours ago before waking up in a NY side street. Bet they never heard this particular story before."_  
Which other possibilities were there?  
The police?  
Same thing.  
Fed up with the whole situation I went into a park and sat under a tree beside a small lake to think. What could I possibly do? There had to be a way to contact my family and friends, my parents were probably already worried to death.  
Leaning onto the broad trunk of the oak behind me, I fell asleep.

-----ooooo-----

I woke when somebody shook my arm.  
"Miss? Miss? Are you okay?"  
I opened my eyes and looked into the face of a young security officer.  
"W…was ist denn los?" I mumbled and, noting his puzzled expression, the events of the past hours came back to my mind. „Oops, sorry, I must have fallen asleep." I said and stood up.  
He shook his head.  
"You shouldn´t stroll through this part of the city at night time." He said. "Can I call you a cab to bring you home?" I must have looked really dumb, because he lowered the walkie-talkie he was already holding to his mouth and watched me compassionately.  
"Don´t you have a home? Can I do anything for you?"  
For a moment I felt anger growing in me, but the look on his face made it melt away. This young man just wanted to help me and at the moment I needed help.  
I guess my appearance led him to the conclusion that I had run away from home or so. I was already 20 years old, but still looked like a teenager to some people.  
I made a decision.  
"Would you mind telling me where the next police station is?"  
I would ask there if I could spend the night in one of the cells and maybe – just maybe – they´d let me use the phone to call my parents. My previous doubts were gone – I didn´t have to tell them anything if I didn´t want to. Even if they didn´t let me sleep in one of the cells they would probably not throw me out. Everything´s better than the street.  
The young man gave me an odd look.  
"The 23th precinct is the closest. I´ll bring you there."  
On the way I learned that his name was Thomas, that he was 22 years old, single and lived in Brooklyn. He had just started working at a local security company and was quite satisfied with his job yet.  
I only told him my name and that I´d just arrived in New York and he didn´t try to find out more.  
  
Suddenly he stopped and pointed to a building across the street.  
"That´s the precinct."  
I looked at the building and my jaw dropped for the second time on this day.

-----ooooo-----

I knew this building.  
  
I´d seen it before and when I looked up and recognized the clock tower on top of it, it hit me.  
Suddenly I knew why everything looked "wrong" and – more important - what the blue circle probably had been.  
A passage.  
A gateway to another dimension.  
THIS dimension.  
  
I couldn´t see much around the clock far above my head, but I was sure that in broad daylight you could see stone creatures standing up there.  
  
Gargoyles.  
  
Suddenly I knew what I had to do next.

-----ooooo-----

I thanked Thomas and he gave me his phone number. I had to promise I would call him if I was in trouble. He really cared and we were both smiling a bit embarrassed when he turned around and walked back to the park to finish patrol.  
I put the piece of paper with his number in my pocket and walked over to the huge stone building.

-----ooooo-----

"Detective Maza is out on duty, I´m afraid. Can I take a message?"  
"No, I´m waiting for her."  
"She probably won´t return till 6 am."  
"That´s okay, I´ll wait."  
The officer looked puzzled, but I just went over to a bench and sat down. During the next few hours I watched NYPD officers deal with hookers, gang members and other criminals.  
_"We never see this side when watching "Gargoyles" on TV."_ I thought, _"It´s always about the big crimes, hardly ever small stuff like a purse being stolen. And the existence of prostitution is never even mentioned. After all, it´s a cartoon series for kids."_  
I must have dozed off a little, because when someone touched my arm lightly I jumped, again experiencing a moment of disorientation.  
"Slowly kid, no one´s going to harm you." An amused voice told me and I looked into the face of Elisa Maza. She stood right in front of me, wearing her red jacket and jeans. It had been a strange feeling when this police officer confirmed that there was indeed a detective named Elisa Maza working at this precinct, but to meet her in person – wow, I got goosebumps.  
"Carey told me you spent the last four hours here, waiting for me. So what can be so important?"  
I must have stared at her like a fool, because she examined me closer.  
"Have we met?"  
I shook my head, more to clear it than to answer the question.  
Now that she stood right in front of me I couldn´t think of anything to say. She patiently watched me struggle for the right words and finally I managed to introduce myself without studdering and asked her if we could go to a more private place to talk.  
She raised an eyebrow, but nodded and led me into a small interrogation room nearby. We sat down and I felt myself searching for words again.  
How to begin? Bursting out with "I know about the gargoyles" couldn´t be a proper start.  
Elisa smiled at me.  
"Why don´t you start right at the beginning?" she suggested as if reading my mind.  
But what exactly was the beginning?  
"We haven´t met before," I said slowly and watched her carefully, "but I know about some very special friends of yours. I´d like to talk to them. I need their help."  
She tensed a little, but it could have been my imagination.  
"What are you talking about? Which friends?"  
Could I have stumbled into this dimension before she´d met Goliath and the others for the first time? Then I´d really be in trouble. I had been sure the gargoyles were already living in the clock tower of the police precinct, but for all I knew Xanatos could be the only one knowing about their existence yet.  
Somehow I found the courage to say "Goliath" and saw Elisa jump a little. No imagination this time. She watched me intensly before asking.  
"Who are you and what do you know about Goliath?"  
I told her it was hard to explain, but I had to speak to him and the others as soon as possible. "I´m afraid, I don´t know what you´re talking about." She said slowly.  
I rolled my eyes and decided to spill a bit more to convince her that I indeed knew about the gargoyles. It´s been a while since I had watched an episode, but I still remembered a few things. The German translation of the spoken introduction of the series wouldn´t help much, but there were a few other pieces of information not many people in this dimension could possibly know.  
"In the year 994 A. D. they lived in a castle together with others of their kind and humans, protecting their home at night. Goliath was the only one having a name, he was stronger than all the others and their leader. Demona and a human he had thought of as a friend betrayed them and all the other gargoyles were killed."  
I went on, recalling the scenes of the battle, seeing the Magus before my inner eye as he cursed the 5 remaining gargoyles before realizing he made a mistake, then, in order to unite Goliath with his friends, putting the spell on him as well.  
Xanathos buying the castle and transfering it to Manhattan.  
The night when the spell was finally broken.  
"Now there are 6 Gargoyles living in New York. Their names are Goliath, Hudson, Broadway, Brooklyn, Lexington and Bronx. They kind of adopted the city as their home and try their best to protect the innocent."  
  
I looked up and saw Elisa staring at me in disbelief.  
"How do you know…?"  
I smiled, suddenly feeling very tired.  
"I´ll try to explain later. But first…do you mind if I take a little nap in one of your spare cells? I feel like I haven´t slept in days."

-----ooooo-----

When I awoke this time, I saw a huge blue face right in front of me. Eyes without pupils were watching me attentively, but not unfriendly. I streched out a hand and – like a dog – Bronx sniffed it. I seemed to have passed a test when he licked my palm and jumped onto the old couch with his front paws to take a closer look at my face. His warm breath smelled like sausages and I found myself wondering if there were still some left where he´d gotten them from.  
_"Would make a great first impression – asking for food."_ I thought and smiled at the gargoyle, who rested his head in my lap while I patted him.  
  
"He seems to like you." The snarling voice came from the opening that led out onto the platform of the clock tower. I had been too tired to realize Elisa had brought me right up into her friends´living room. But there I was, staring at Hudson, who quickly stepped inside and walked down the stairs in my direction. He looked a bit grumpy, but when Bronx jumped up, greeting him anxiously, he broke into a smile and patted his head.  
  
I leaned forward.  
"What time is it? Is it still night? How long did I sleep?"  
Hudson grinned.  
"Still night? You slept the rest of last night, all day and nearly through this night as well." I grinned back.  
"You´ve got a very comfortable couch here."  
  
Suddenly there was a flapping noise and a moment later the other gargoyles entered the room behind the clock. Goliath was the first coming down the stairs, followed by Broadway and Brooklyn, who seemed to have an argument of some sort and Lexington, who rolled his eyes and flew past his friends in my direction.  
  
He was the first arriving at the couch, landed on it and threw me a surprised glance.  
"You´re awake!" And turning to Brooklyn. "I knew she wasn´t under the influence of a sleeping spell."  
Brooklyn was about to respond, but a glance from Goliath stopped him.  
  
They stood around the couch now, eyeing me closely. All of them looked…bigger…more massive than on the small TV screen. I asked myself which physical laws allowed them to fly, even if it was more a gliding of some sort. Maybe it was the same as with the bumble bee – scientists said it was in fact impossible for this small creature to fly, considering its weight and shape, but it did anyway. Probably it was the same with gargoyles.  
Goliath bend down a bit.  
"Elisa told me you knew about us and the curse. And that you needed our help." He growled.  
I nodded.  
"Well, I don´t really know if you can help me, but…from my point of view it seemed to be a logical step to come to you." I said slowly.  
Goliath shook his head.  
"Are you a sorcerer?" he wanted to know.  
This wasn´t the kind of question I had expected.  
"A sorcerer? No, certainly not. What makes you think I could be one?" I asked, puzzled.  
"You know things about the our past nobody else does. Elisa repeated everything you´d told her and the only way to know all the details of the betrayal and the battle…" he stopped, because Elisa came from behind and joined the circle.  
He glanced at her and she shook her head. Then both looked back at me.  
"You must have been there to know all these details." He continued. "How else did you know what happened _after_ I had transformed into stone?"  
I cursed myself for not thinking of this in the first place. But I had been tired the previous night and not really capable of thinking straight anymore.  
"It hasn´t got anything to do with magic." I told them, but then stopped. "Well, at least I don´t think so."  
"What does that mean?" Broadway asked with a puzzled expression.  
"I don´t really know myself." I groaned confused.  
"Hey hey," Hudson interrupted, waving his hands in a calming gesture, "give the kid some time, will ya? She just woke up."  
I threw him a grateful glance and tried to find a way of explaining what went through my head. "You´re heroes of a Disney TV-series" wasn´t exactly the phrase I was looking for and I dropped it right away. Elisa took a chair from a corner of the room and sat opposite me.  
"I fed the computer your name, but it couldn´t find anything. Not in the US or any other parts of the world. You don´t seem to exist."  
This brought a smile to my face – the police having computer connections around the world? I was definitely not at home anymore!  
"I come from Germany." I began. "But not from this dimension. It´s quite similar to this one, but there are no gargoyles and magic, at least as far as I know."  
They looked a bit stunned, but not fully convinced yet. I decided not to tell them that we could watch their adventures on TV, but said that there were books about them I had read. Well, comics are books as well, aren´t they?  
Then I gave Elisa and the Clan a brief summary of my arrival in New York.  
"And I don´t really remember much after talking to you." I said to Elisa.  
She smiled.  
"You already looked pretty absent when I brought you here. I think you slept before your head reached the couch."  
The others grinned as well and the ice was broken.  
  
Lexington jumped closer.  
"If I understand you correctly, you don´t really know how you got here."  
"Yeah, that´s right."  
"What makes you think we can help you? Was there anything in this flea-market-book about us?"  
"Not as far as I remember." I replied. "But the only book I know having enough power to send a person into another dimension is…"  
"…the Grimorium Arcanorum." Goliath finished the sentence.  
I nodded and rubbed Bronx´head. The blue-ish gargoyle sat next to my feet and panted delighted.  
For a moment it was the only sound in the room.  
I watched Goliath and the others exchanging glances, then my stomach started to rumble.  
Very loud.  
  
"When was the last time you had a good meal?" Broadway asked.  
"Um…after my arrival, at the fast food place." I answered uncomfortably.  
"What?! That was…more than 24 hours ago!" He waved his arms, turned around and disappeared behind a corner. When he came back he carried a cardboard box full of donuts.  
"It´s not what I call a balanced meal…" Elisa began sceptically, but I was already stuffing a yellow one into my mouth. It was the best donut I´ve ever eaten. I mean, Germany is famous for quite a few different sorts of cake and sweets, but donuts…no, you don´t get good donuts in Germany. Not like these, soft and with a thick layer of icing…yummy.  
The gargoyles and Elisa watched me eating half of the box´ content with amusement, then I lay back and – seeing Bronx´ glance – offered him half of the last donut, which he gulped greedily.  
He nearly took off my arm as well.  
"Watch it, pal!" I shrieked, pulling my hand away quickly. He gave me an innocent look and everybody – including me - started laughing.  
  
I closed the box and looked at Goliath.  
"So…are you going to help me?" The big silver-blue gargoyle glanced around at his friends, then back at me.  
"We´ll do what we can." He replied smiling and offered me his hand.  
Grateful I shook it.

-----ooooo-----

The following night they brought me to the castle.  
  
While Goliath was – as usual – carrying Elisa and Hudson Bronx, Brooklyn and Broadway took me in turns. Flying itself was fantastic, but changing partners 400 metres above the ground pretty scary. I was glad when we finally landed in the forecourt of the castle.  
  
"We´ve got to be careful." Hudson said quietly, "Xanatos is on a business trip abroad, but his assistant, Owen, is still around."  
  
I wasn´t expecting to get the book – in fact, I was sure we´d be caught in the attempt to take it. After all, Xanatos had enough money to protect his valueables and the Grimorium Arcanorum was one of the mightiest magic books in this dimension. I wondered how he´d gotten it.  
But I had no choice – I had to take a look into it. Hopefully there was a spell that would bring me back home.  
  
We moved around a few corners, avoiding doors that were certainly connected to the alarm system. Hudson led us to a wall and pressed on a stone. Suddenly part of the wall moved, and we could see the dim corridor on the other side. Quickly everybody stepped in and Hudson closed the door again. Then we moved on.  
  
Xanatos´ office was dark, but the moon shone through the huge windows, so we could see most of our soroundings. The Grimorium was laying under a glass cube and before Elisa or I could say anything Broadway had already lifted the cube and Brooklyn took the book and handed it to me. Startled I waited for an alarm, but everything remained silent. After a moment I heard Elisa exhale slowly and knew we had shared the same thought.  
  
We seemed to get away with the book after all.  
  
But when we turned around to leave the room there was a dark silhouette standing in the doorframe. It moved forward and suddenly light swept through the room, causing us to blink. I recognized the politely smiling man instantly.  
  
It was David Xanatos.

-----ooooo-----

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen." The deep voice said friendly and when the man slowly stepped into the room I felt my stomach turn into a knot.  
I had always considered Xanatos a remarkable opponent for Goliath and his Clan. He was intelligent, well-equipped with technology and always searching for ways to increase his power and wealth. Besides these facts he was extraordinary good-looking and had excellent manners. Failures didn´t seem to bother him that much.  
I had to remind myself of his crimes against innocent people and that he still was the enemy. Wouldn´t have been wise to develop a crush on this guy right now – after all, I knew more about the future of the people in this room than anyone else.  
And despite the fact that Xanatos would become sort of a friend of the Clan later on, he was the bad guy now, working together with Demona and Dr. Sevarius whom I didn´t even want to meet in person.  
While I forced myself to stop drooling over this handsome villain Goliath moved in front of Elisa and me and growled.  
Xanatos´ smile broadened and suddenly the wall right next to his desk moved upwards, giving way for five gargoyle-shaped robots, marching into the room and aiming their phaser weapons at our group.  
Hudson raised his sword, Brooklyn, Broadway and Bronx jumped between the robots and us two humans - time seemed to freeze.  
  
While the gargoyles prepared for battle, Xanatos´glance fell onto me, still holding the Grimorium. He raised an eyebrow and turned to Goliath.  
"Is this your new hobby? Teaching burglar technics to kids?" he asked him cheerfully - and in Elisa´s direction, "And you´re supporting this? I´m very disapointed in you, detective."  
Realizing that his enemy wouldn´t attack us right now, Goliath´s wings folded a little.  
"We need the book to help her get home." He growled.  
Xanatos stared at me.  
"Why didn´t you use the telephone book? It´s far easier to get and you´re more likely to find her parents´ number in there."  
Elisa stepped at Goliath´s side and I followed her quickly, shifting the heavy book to my right hip. "It´s not that easy." She told him, then stopped, looking at me. I realized she wanted to leave the decision of what to tell Xanatos to me.  
I met his gaze and shrugged, nearly dropping the book.  
"I came here from another dimension. It was kind of an accident. Now I hope there´s a spell in the Grimorium I can use to go back." I said.  
The amused smile was still there, but he didn´t make another remark, only his stare seemed to be searching my face for a sign of untruth. I stared back and after a while he turned to Goliath again. "Why didn´t you just ask me if you could use the Grimorium?" he asked him in a hurt voice. "Instead of breaking into my office and trying to steal it?"  
I could almost see Goliath´s jaw dropping and repressed a smile. Xanatos was obviously enjoying this situation.  
Elisa was sceptical.  
"You´ll let us leave with the book?"  
He shook his head.  
"I´m sorry, but I can´t do this. Please understand, the Grimorium is a very powerful magic book and I can´t just give it to you. But…" his smile brightened, "…I can offer you my office while you´re searching for the right spell to bring…" he glanced at me intensly, "…this young lady back where she belongs."  
  
Hudson nodded in the direction of the still waiting robots.  
"Shall we use these fellas as bookends?"  
A simple command from Xanatos made them disappear behind the wall again.  
  
Brooklyn turned around.  
"Why would you let us use the book?" he asked suspiciously.  
  
Xanatos pressed a small button next to the light switch.  
"This is obviously an emergency, who am I to turn my back when there are people in trouble?"  
  
Nobody replied, but our expressions spoke for themselves. _"Yeah, right – who´s supposed to believe that?"_  
  
Suddenly Owen stood in the doorway.  
"You called me, Mr. Xanatos? Oh, you´ve got…guests. Do you want me to lead them out?"  
"No, Owen, they are going to stay a bit longer. Could you bring us a little snack?"  
  
"Certainly, sir." And he disappeared again.  
"Now!" Xanatos rubbed his hands and came in my direction, "I´m sorry, we haven´t been introduced properly – my name is David Xanatos."  
I shook his hand.  
"Christine Stein. Please call me Chris."  
"Okay…Chris. Where exactly do you come from?"  
I gave him the same brief explanation I´d given Elisa and the Clan before, while the gargoyles were standing around, trying to figure out what Xanatos was up to.  
  
Well, I had a hunch here: My dimension may not have been very interesting for this man, but others propably were. And if he found out how to control leaps to other places I couldn´t even imagine all the different possibilities he would suddenly have.  
Worlds with better technology he could buy or steal.  
Worlds with unlimited mineral deposits.  
Or he could just kidnap people for Sevarius´ experiments without leaving a trace.  
Oh yes, he´d have quite a few possibilities.  
  
Anyway, I had to play along for now, I would think of a way to fight him later if we found anything in the Grimorium.  
  
Owen returned and brought a trolley with sandwiches and drinks. I watched him walking to the fireplace and lighting the fire. This guy was Puck, one of Oberon´s children – and no one knew this yet, apart from me.  
Suddenly he looked up and met my gaze. I returned to the passage I´d been reading before, but the old English was even worse to understand than the old German had been to read.  
  
A few hours later I was still sitting at the desk with Elisa, Hudson and Xanatos. Goliath stood at the window, keeping an eye on Xanatos and Owen. Brooklyn and Lexington had found a game of chess and played on the floor near the door to the corridor, and Broadway finished the plate with tuna sandwiches. The 4th one if my calculations were correct.  
  
Elisa and Hudson helped me with the translation of some difficult English parts (for Hudson was still illiterate, I read the parts aloud) and after a while we found some lines about time travelling that sounded promising. But when the huge Latin passages began I gave up. Sighing I leaned back.  
"I had Latin at school", I said to no one in particular, "but only for two years – this is too difficult for me."  
  
Xanatos, leaning against the desk, reached for the book and looked at the page. "It´s about a traveller…who falls…into something…mhmm…"  
He fell silent, then signaled Owen.  
"Could you take a look?"  
"Certainly, Sir."  
He read the lines Xanatos pointed at and translated without hesitation.  
"The traveller who falls into this world like a stone into a lake sees the future and will not return alone. Her waves will be recognized in the places she visits." He raised an eyebrow, reminding me of Spock.  
"That´s unusual. This passage deals with dimension travelling, but there are no spells or descriptions of how to do it, only this prediction."  
Bronx strolled over to me and rubbed his head on my knee, pushing Xanatos´ comfortable chair a few inches over the floor. Absent minded I ran my fingers through his horns.  
Elisa stared at Owen.  
"Are you sure it´s about a female traveller?"  
Frowning Owen looked up.  
"Of course I am. The Latin grammar…"  
"It´s okay, Owen," Xanatos interrupted, "we believe you. So…" He watched me closely, "…this prediction could actually be about you."  
Hudson wasn´t convinced.  
"Only because a female traveller is mentioned?" he shook his head, "That´s not more than a hunch." "It´s a bit more than that," Owen said stiffly, "the part about the stone and the lake is pretty obvious."  
"What do you mean?"  
Before Owen could respond I saw the connection myself.  
"Stone…that´s my last name – the English translation of "Stein" is "stone"! And the gateway looked like a huge lake, only…well, as if looking at it from above."  
  
Xanatos stared from me to the book and back.  
"Can you see the future?" he asked quietly and I felt the gaze of nine people – humans and gargoyles (and one of a child of Oberon) – on me.  
I shifted a little in the chair.  
"Yes, I know a few things that will happen here." I said carefully.  
They waited.  
I looked around.  
  
"I can´t tell you!"  
  
Broadway abandoned the empty trolley and stepped closer.  
"Why not?"  
"This would change the time line. I can´t do it!"  
"But you could prevent catastrophes from happening." Brooklyn said softly.  
"This…this wouldn´t be right."  
I shook my head, trying to express my feelings and thoughts about the matter.  
"You can´t just…walk around and change the time line. What if you actually prevent something just to find out that you only made things worse?"  
Elisa touched my arm.  
"Do you have anything particular in mind?"   
Actually I had.  
  
I thought of her brother Derek and the mutagenic that turned him (or would turn him) into Talon. But if I told them and – always on the condition that they believed me – this change could be prevented, what would happen to the others whose life he´d save later on? What would happen to Maggie? To the gargoyle clones and the homeless? Could I save them too and at what price?  
  
My head was spinning and I closed my eyes. Remembering the first directive of the United Federation of Planets, I decided to use this rule for now as well, at least till something better came up.  
"I can´t tell you!" I repeated in a firm voice and opened my eyes again, preparing myself for more questions.  
  
But Hudson only nodded and tapped me on the shoulder.  
"No one should know too much about the future. It wouldn´t do much good. It´s okay, nobody will mention this topic again." He gave the others a long stare, as if to see if anyone would object this statement.   
  
No one did.  
  
In the uncomfortable silence Goliath pointed to the line Owen had translated.  
"How does this help Chris to get home?"  
  
Owen took his glasses of and cleaned them with a white handkerchief.  
"The book says she is going to leave this world – and obviously she´ll take someone with her – to visit other places, but there´s neither a spell nor any other piece of advice that gives a hint on the way she is going to use."  
  
I rubbed my eyes, it was already 4 am and I was tired.  
"So when there´s no help in the Grimorium – how else can I find out how to go back?"  
  
No one reponded and I felt depression sweaping over me. Bronx licked my hand and wailed in sympathy.

-----ooooo-----

Xanatos assured me he would try everything in his might to find a way to help me and although I knew that he wasn´t doing it for my sake, I thanked him, then refused his offer to stay in his guest room. Just when I was about to climb on Brooklyn´s arm to fly back to the clock tower Owen came around the corner and waved.  
"Miss Stein? Could I talk to you for a minute?"  
Tired I nodded and while the gargoyles were watching him closely he led me a bit to the side.  
"Do you have…a certain information about me…" he stopped, searching for words.  
I raised my hand.  
"I know who you are if it´s that what you mean. Don´t worry, your secret is save with me." I grinned a little. "Just like everyone else´s."  
His expression was unreadable, as always, when he nodded.  
"Thank you, I appreciate that."  
I turned around to walk back to Elisa and the Clan, then hesitated. Looking back over my shoulder I found him still standing there.  
"Owen?"  
"Yes?"  
"There´s nothing…I mean…nothing you could do…?"  
He shook his head.  
"I´m sorry. This particular matter lays beyond my competence."  
I nodded sadly and went back to Brooklyn and the others.  
I had expected this reply.

-----ooooo-----

Elisa insisted on me coming home with her, so Broadway landed behind Goliath on her balcony and I climbed down. We waved the Clan goodbye and went inside.  
"Hot chocolate?" she offered and I nodded.  
"Yes, please."  
Then we sat on the table in silence, sipping the hot liquid.  
I saw a photo of Elisa and her family on a nearby shelf and she followed my glance.  
"Do you have any brothers or sisters?"  
"Yes, a little brother. He´s still at school."  
The silence returned while I was thinking of my family at home.  
The Grimorium said I would get back, but not when. How long would I have to stay here? It was an interesting place, no doubt about it, but I didn´t want to spend my life here.

-----ooooo-----

I had leapt (yes, I decided to use the Quantum Leap phrase, I kinda like it)…I had leapt into the beginning of the series.  
Xanatos had already been in prison (and released), but not yet built/brought back Goliath´s brother Coldstone. Derek wasn´t working for him yet.  
Once more I thought about warning Elisa, but decided against it. After all, from my point of view these things had already happened. And she hasn´t been able to talk him out of this job before – so he wouldn´t believe her when she told him about the mutagenic anyway.  
_"What if my appearance here already changed something?"_ I asked myself. But I couldn´t find the courage to leave Elisa and the Clan and continue the search on my own.

-----ooooo-----

The following night I insisted on following them on duty.  
"I won´t be sitting around another night, trying to figure out how to get home! The Grimorium was of no use, Xanatos obviously hasn´t found anything else and if I keep on doing nothing I´ll freak out!"  
So Goliath allowed me to come, but only if I stayed behind the battle line with Bronx and didn´t try to help. Meddling into a fight between gargoyles and gangsters? Do I look stupid?  
  
We flew to the harbour, where – according to one of Elisa´s sources – an illegal weapon delivery was about to take place this night. From above we saw a few people loading heavy containers on trucks.  
Goliath signaled Hudson and Brooklyn, and they went down to drop Bronx and me.  
"Don´t move away from here!" Hudson ordered before turning around to help his friends stopping the delivery. Followed by Bronx I only went over to the corner to watch the fight. While Goliath was throwing containers on the workers who defended the delivery with phaser weapons, Brooklyn was beating the crap out of 7 or 8 workers with black masks who attacked him with baseball clubs.  
Broadway drove a heavy loaded truck over the wharf and into the water, where it sank within seconds. I was completely absorbed in the fight, but suddenly an angry growl made me turn around. Behind me, from the other side of the small alley Brooklyn had dropped me, came a little army of robot-like creatures. Both, a still growling Bronx and I, carefully moved backwards, the other gargoyles hadn´t seen the robots yet. I turned around and whistled as loud as I could to get their attention.  
Goliath looked up and his face darkened.  
"Go back! Can´t you see it´s dangerous here?!"  
"It´s more dangerous in the alley!" I shouted back, "There must be 20 robots coming in this direction." The huge gargoyle turned to a few puzzled guys who stood in a doorway of a warehouse and didn´t seem to be sure what to do next. He growled and the men screamed, dropped their weapons and ran away.  
  
Suddenly I heard Bronx barking, but when I turned around a large silver robot was already flying in my direction at high speed, grabbing me and shooting up into the black sky.  
Pain shot through my ribs were he held me and I kicked him a few times. Of course this only resulted in an aching foot. Then Hudson was there, attacking the robot, whose right arm transformed into a phaser weapon. Green balls were flying in the direction of the gargoyle. One hit Hudson and horrified I saw him falling.  
  
I heard a scream and realized it was my own.  
With my clenched fist I hit the "face" of the robot hard. Something cracked and suddenly the robot was spinning in mid air. The grip around my chest loosened and I was catapulted away, falling instantly. In a distance I saw Goliath carrying Hudson, and Brooklyn, Lexington and Broadway flying in my direction. But I knew they wouldn´t make it in time.  
Under me, coming nearer and nearer, was the wharf where Bronx was running along and the dark shimmering harbour water I would hit any second.  
From this height it would be like falling on concrete. I hoped it wouldn´t hurt too much. I put my arms around my knees and pictures of my family and my past stood before my inner eye.  
Playing with my brother and our stuffed animals – already a few years ago; talking to my parents, my father making a funny remark over something, my mother smiling. The first job I had, the first big journey through Australia. The party with friends in my first appartment was the last thing I remembered, then I hit the water.

-----ooooo-----

When I awoke, broad daylight shone into my face. I waited for my eyes to get used to the brightness and felt around in the meantime, touching soft things, a pillow, a blanket…did I survive the fall, was I in hospital now?  
I blinked and saw a small wooden desk with a computer on it next to the bed. Posters on the walls, a stuffed Tazmanian devil on a shelf on the other side of the room. Even the flea-market book was still there.  
It was my bedroom.  
I was at home again.  
So it had been a dream after all.  
  
But when I sat up, pain shot through every inch of my body. I lifted the t-shirt (which was dirty and had various cuts) and found a huge dark bruise where the robot had held me. My foot was blue-ish and the knuckles on my right hand were bleeding and swollen.  
Obviously no dream after all.  
Groaning I got up and swayed into the kitchen to make some tea – and to search for the 1st Aid Box. The calender/clock-mix on the freezer told me it was Saturday morning - the little adventure had only taken one night.  
While the water heater was hissing, I bandaged the open wounds and put some ointment onto the bruises. Suddenly I heard a noise from my bedroom.  
The prediction of the Grimorium Arcanorum came to my mind when I slowly got up.  
_"What if it´s the robot?"_  
I grabbed a huge kitchen knife from the sink behind me and moved towards the bedroom.  
The creature sitting on the floor ignored the knife and hopped over to me instantly, panting loud.  
"BRONX!"  
I threw the knife onto a shelf and caressed the gargoyle´s head. He licked my hand and looked around with interest.  
"How did _you_ get here, my friend?" I asked him, puzzled. Obviously he was the one the book had mentioned, but as I still didn´t know how I´d made it home myself I couldn´t imagine how _he_ got here. _"The water"_, it shot through my head, _"there were two remarks about water in the prediction: "the stone in the lake" and "waves". I tought it were only symbols, but what if not? Maybe water is the connection."_  
I desperately hoped the important word wasn´t "fall", I didn´t want to hop off a skyscaper everytime I travelled into another world.  
_"Everytime…? That means I´m going to do it again – I´m going to use the flea-market-book to find out which other dimensions I can visit. Maybe I even find a way to travel without the book."_  
Yes, I would return to the gargoyle dimension soon, experimenting with my new found powers - and bringing Bronx back to his friends, of course!  
While I watched the sun playing on the gargoyle´s ears something else hit me: It was day, but Bronx hadn´t changed into stone!  
  
Another mystery, but I didn´t want to think about it right now.  
I took a large bowl of lasagne out of the fridge and heated it in the microwave. Then I shared its content with my panting visitor and went back into the bedroom, pulling the blanket over my shoulders and reaching for the telephone.  
  
"Hi Mom, it´s me, Chris. How´re you doing? No, everything´s fine, I just wanted to hear your voice…" 

-----ooooo-----

End (of Part 1)

  



	3. II Discovering the Secret

Author: Wyrd Sister  
Fandom: Gargoyles  
Disclaimer: I know you know, so I keep it brief: I own nothing apart from Chris and the characters I make up on the way.  
Unfortunately I´m not making money with this story. But presents and cheques (and most of all: reviews) will be gratefully accepted… grin 

Rating: Suitable for all ages  
Summary: Dimension travels are possible after all! Join Chris on her second adventure in the Gargoyle world.

* * *

You are about to hear the story of a traveller between worlds, between dimensions that have only one thing in common: All of them had been created by people of this world – my home world, the world you´re living in. My name is Christine, I´m 20 years old and live in Germany. And not long ago I had an experience most people dream of all their lives…**Chris´ Chronicles**

_Journal of a Dimension traveller_

Part 2 - Discovering the Secret

I sat in front of the book and stared at it intensly.  
It didn´t help.

I opened it and read the text.  
No blue sparkles, not even a shimmer.

What **was** the secret of this book?

A growl came from the living room and, sighing, I stood up to see what Bronx was destroying now. The gargoyle was just too big for my small apartment.

I entered the room quickly, but the hanging ears and the quiet wailing indicated I was too late already. Yep, the second chair was broken – IKEA-chairs are just too light to withstand a gargoyle´s attempt to use them for examining objects on a high shelf.

I patted his head.  
"It´s okay, Bronx, it´s not your fault. I try to get the two of us back into your dimension as soon as possible. Why don´t you lay down for a minute while I check something else?"

He trotted over to a corner where I had put a few blankets for him and dropped himself onto them. I took the book from the bedroom and sat beside him, studying the cover of the "Guide for the Dimension Traveller".

I had flipped through the whole book so far, but it was just…weird. The beginning seemed to be a fiction story (not a good one, by the way), then everything changed and I found receipes for things like "Gewplics" and "Hjeewnkm" if I got that right. Some passages were written in different languages (apart from German I recognized French, English, Latin, Russian and an Asian language, probably Chinese), others looked like they had been written upside down. When I stared at them for a while my head was beginning to spin.

Frustrated I threw the book onto the TV table. It hit the glass of orange juice I had placed there earlier and its content spilled over the "Guide".

When the liquid hit the cover, _it vanished._  
There was a shimmer of blue light when it happened.

I reached for the book and examined it.  
No traces of liquid.

I went to the sink and poured some water over the book. Suddenly it buzzed and a blue circle opened on the cover.  
Of course! I had completely forgotten about the water-connection I´d already figured out! Even the very first leap made sense now for I always kept a glass of water on my nightstand.

I watched the blue circle growing till it was as high as the ceiling.  
Bronx had jumped up and stood beside me, showing no signs of fear.

_"Okay,"_ I thought, _"next stop gargoyle dimension."_

Then we were both pulled into the blue circle.

-----ooooo-----

This time I didn´t pass out.

We were sucked through a blue…tunnel, that vaguely looked like in the sliders-TV-series and landed in a few bushes.  
"Ouch!"

Bronx hopped away from me when he heard me groaning. His paw had hit the bruise on my belly, not a very pleasant feeling. I got up and recognized the suroundings almost immediately: This was the park, just around the corner from the 23rd precinct. And it was evening, just after sundown, no one around.

I waved Bronx and together we headed for the exit. The huge gate was locked, of course, but with a little help from the gargoyle I managed to climb the wall. Turning around on top I told him I would get Goliath and the others to pick him up.  
"Stay here, okay? Don´t move away from this place!"

He barked once and wagged his tail. Okay, so he´d probably understood. I jumped from the wall onto the dark, empty street and broke into a run. Soon I could see the familiar clock tower.

-----ooooo-----

I entered the precinct and nearly ran into Elisa on her way out.  
"Hi there." I smiled and she just stood there, glaring at me.  
"Oh no, don´t tell me we´ve lept too far into the past and she didn´t remember me or…"

But suddenly Elisa broke into a smile as well and grabbed my arm.  
"You´re alright!" she cried out, and then, with a worried expression, "But where´s Bronx?"  
"He´s fine, he came with me. I left him in the park around the corner. You want me to go and tell the others where to find him?"

She nodded and quickly handed me the keys for the clock tower.  
"Okay, you know the way. I´ve got a case and won´t be here tonight, but Goliath will tell me the story when I´m back."

I waved her goodbye and hurried up the stairs to meet the gargoyles. They had just woken up. I heard their cries and the braking of stone skins when I came in. Taking two steps at a time I raced up the stairs and through the little door leading outside.  
I nearly ran into Goliath.

His eyes grew wide.  
"You are alive!" he exclaimed surprised.  
"Yes", I grinned, "and Bronx is fine, too. He´s waiting in the park with the fish-fountain, near the front gate."

Goliath nodded in Brooklyn´s direction and with a little smile the red gargoyle hopped from the platform and disappeared.  
Then I felt the huge hand of Goliath on my shoulder leading me back inside.

"I can´t wait to hear your story."

-----ooooo-----

Again they settled around the old, comfortable couch and I filled them in.  
"…and then we were in the park again." I finished and looked around. "So, what happened after we disappeared? Did you win the battle against the robots?"

Hudson grinned broadly.  
"What kind of question is that?! Of course we won!"

Broadway chuckled.  
"Yeah, Lex found a way to confuse these robots, he used a device he´d built himself."  
"It was nothing, just a little experiment. Fortunately it worked." the little gargoyle remarked humbly.  
"Nonsense." Goliath growled, "if it hadn´t been for Lexington we´d all be dead now. He did great."

Lex grew a few inches after this laudation from the Clan leader.

Just then Brooklyn returned with Bronx in his arm who immediately began to struggle when he saw the others.  
"Hang on, Bronx...I let you go in a second..."  
Everyone stood around the blue gargoyle who didn´t know whom of his friends to lick first. I grinned at the scene.  
_"A family united again."_

With a rare smile Goliath left the others and returned to the couch.  
"Apparently you know how to handle the dimension portal now."

I shook my head.  
"Not really. I mean, I think I know how to use the book and travel _here_, but I still haven´t got any idea why I got back last time. It seems to have something to do with water, but I´m not sure yet how it works."

He nodded.  
"Bronx was right behind you when you hit the water…" he paused, "at least it looked like you fell into it. He followed you and both of you disappeared. We searched nearly 3 hours, but when the sun was about to rise…"  
"I´m sorry," I mumbled, and stared down at the floor, "I didn´t want to cause..."  
"Nobody is accusing you," he said gently, "You didn´t know how this portal worked. But I´d be glad if you found out as soon as possible, just in case there is another situation where you might need to go back."

I stared into the serious face of the gargoyle leader, then at the others, still playing around in the middle of the room.  
"You´re right. I´ve got to figure this out now."

Jumping up from the couch I headed for the small kitchen area.  
"What are you doing?" Lexington called after me.

"Just get some water. I may need it soon."

-----ooooo-----

_"What was the last thing I did before I got back home?"_ I asked myself, _"well, I hit a robot and fell about 500 metres into water."_  
Actually I didn´t want to do this again. But hopefully I only had to repeat part of this scene.

I reached for the glass, closed my eyes and poured the liquid over my head.

When I opened my eyes again, Broadway and Brookly sat in front of the couch and could hardly control their expressions.  
"So…" Brooklyn remarked, "you´re still here."  
He grinned broadly and I threw the empty glass after him, which he caught easily, while Broadway was laughing out loud.

Hudson heard him and came back into the tower.  
"How´s it going?"  
"Still no progress." I groaned, stood up and streched. "Looks like I´ll have to jump from a bridge."  
"You already crossed the dimensional border in both direction. Be patient, you´ll find out how."

I nodded moodily and accepted the refilled glass from Brooklyn´s claws.  
"Thanks."

Maybe it was not enough.  
Maybe I needed a lake.  
Or it had to be sea water, like in the harbour.  
_"No, there certainly was no salt in the orange juice. It has to be something else. And it was enough in the glass of juice…"_

I wished my brother was here. **He** had the best analytic mind of the family.  
Suddenly there was a circle of blue sparkles in the glass I held. It vanished a second later.

I heard a surprised cough and saw Lexington coming towards the table holding a small electronic device he was working at. He had seen it, too, so I probably wasn´t freaking out.  
"What was that?" he exclaimed.  
"The opening." I replied, trying to sound calm, "but I did neither touch the water, nor the glass. So what…"

And suddenly I knew it: For the second time I had thought strongly about a member of my family – could this be the key? Like "thinking a happy thought" in "Peter Pan"?  
You just had to concentrate on your real life and jump through the portal?  
Could it be that easy?

The last thing coming to my mind when I fell the other day had been a party in my appartment – and I had landed just there.  
_"Okay, I´m game."_ I thought and grabbed the glass, _"Let´s try to get home again!"_

And while I pictured the details of every room in my mind, I watched the blue circle appear again, growing around the water glass and up to the ceiling.  
I heard a hissing sound when the portal began to suck the air around me and threw a last glance at Lexington, who hadn´t closed his mouth yet.

"See ya later, Lex!"

Then I jumped into the blue circle.

-----ooooo-----

_"YES!" _I thought triumphantly when the portal closed again.  
I was standing in the living room of my appartment again, still holding a glass.  
It was empty.  
"Okay, what now? Go back again? Or try if I can get into another dimension the same way?"

Yes, I wanted to try this portal out, see as much as possible – now!

A glance at my calender/clock-mix told me it was Sunday morning – again it had only taken one night to return.  
I would learn from experience that it **always** took one night for me – no matter how long I spent _abroad_.

Anyway, I wasn´t sure at this point, of course, but just assumed I would have time for another leap. Quickly I put together a few things I would need for work the next morning and grabbed the book from the table.

Just when I was about to put it into the kitchen sink I hesitated.  
"There are thousands of possibilities – where do I start?"

Finally I made a decision, grinned to myself and let the water pour over the book. The blue circle grew and I prepared myself to be sucked into a new adventure.

-----ooooo-----

End (of Part 2)


	4. III Who's afraid of the Psi Corps?

Author: Wyrd Sister  
Fandom: Babylon 5  
Disclaimer: I know you know, so I keep it brief: I own nothing apart from Chris and the characters I make up on the way.  
Unfortunately I´m not making money with this story. But presents and cheques (and most of all: reviews) will be gratefully accepted… grin 

Rating: Suitable for all ages  
Summary: Dimension travels are possible after all! Join Chris on her third adventure in another world - this time she´s visiting Babylon 5.

* * *

You are about to hear the story of a traveller between worlds, between dimensions that have only one thing in common: All of them had been created by people of this world – my home world, the world you´re living in. My name is Christine, I´m 20 years old and live in Germany. And not long ago I had an experience most people dream of all their lives…now I can jump into TV- and book-dimensions, visit the heroes and their sidekicks - and jump back home whenever I want (IF I have some water - for whatever reason - to do the trick).

Ever wanted to see Babylon 5? Meet the guys who are running the station?

Well, I leapt there last Friday (home dimension time)…

**Chris´ Chronicles**

_Journal of a Dimension traveller_

Part 3 – Who´s afraid of the Psi Corps?

"Hey you! Give me a koghertyco!"  
I can´t guarantee this was the exact name of the drink the Narn had ordered, but that´s what it sounded like. I swallowed a rude reply (I don´t like to be refered to as "hey you") and turned to Katar, the owner of the bar I was working at.  
He nodded and mixed a few ingredients I didn´t want to look closer at, poured a yellow liquid over them and filled a huge glass with the thick content. Fortunately the light in the bar was usually dim and I couldn´t see much of what I served the customers.

There were only few at this time of day, but they kept me busy anyway, addressing me in a wide variaty of alien languages that made my ear itch.

The right ear, to be exact.

The one with the babelfish in.

I´d bought it during a short trip to the "Hitchhiker´s Guide"-dimension, it hasn´t been easy to get, but finally I returned home with a small fish in my ear that had unlimited access to my brain waves. No x-ray scans in the near future!

But thanks to this little animal I could understand nearly every language in nearly every dimension I traveled, which, of course, was a great advantage. And it had gotten me this job in the "Dancing Lobster" in the Brown Section of Babylon 5. I doubted the green alien with the three tentacles who owned this place had ever seen a lobster or knew what it was. Katar had kept the name anyway, maybe because he didn´t want to risk losing his regular customers.

When I came here for the first time - about three weeks ago - he was searching for a waitress to help him during the busiest nights. I applied, mainly because there´s no better way to learn about a city (or – in this case – a space station) than to work there for a while. And I needed money for souvenirs, of course.

The Brown Section was a logical choice: No one asked for legal documents or working permits. Katar asked me a few questions in different languages and – quietly praising the bablefish – I answered him in English. He was surprised that I could understand him, but wasn´t able to respond in the same languages. But as he didn´t want me to actually _talk_ much anyway, he was satisfied and we discussed my wages. This took more time and much wailing from his side, but I wasn´t willing to work for nothing. He assured me that I would ruin him with my claims, even drew a detailed picture of his starving family (not that he had one) and finally I headed for the door. This brought him back to reality (well, his reality, that is) and we came to an agreement both of us could live with.

The "Dancing Lobster" is a popular bar in the heart of the red light district. The clientele consists of all kinds of aliens, but also humans come regularly and seem to enjoy the atmosphere. Every night except Monday there are dancing girls who bring even more customers in.

During my stay I had seen most of the different parts of the station. I spent some time checking out the neighbourhood around the bar, I knew the regular lurkers by name and Katar had pointed out a few individuals I´d better avoid. But most of my free time I spent hunting for celebrities in Blue and Green Section (Political officialdom and Ambassadorial accommodations). Once I´ve seen Delenn and Londo, another time G´Kar in a crowd of Narn and just the day before yesterday I nearly ran into Commander Sinclair, presumably on his way to the bridge!

Garibaldi´s face is more common in the area they call "The Downbelow". I try to avoid _him_ as well as the people Katar had pointed out, just in case he was here officially and wanted to check legal documents (better not take any chances). But I´m quite sure Katar would know about an official check in advance and warn me.

Katar is a nice guy, but a bit lonely. He tends to stay in the bar up to 20 hours a day. Not much of a private life, but that´s why he knows so much about what´s going on on the station.

Just when I thought _"And actually the waitress-job is quite good"_ one of the regulars, the Narn I´d served the yellow stuff earlier, leaned over the back of his seat and threw up.

I sighed and went to fetch a mop.

Narn puke is the worst.

-----ooooo-----

Today I wanted to check out the Red Section, where the business people work. It was 10 o´clock in the morning and busy in the corridors and the negotiation rooms.Unshaved traders argued with elegant people in suits and sometimes people even started to shout at each other.

I walked through the corridors, marvelling at all the different sights and watching humans and aliens that went past me, often in a hurry. I recognized a few races I had already seen in the bar, but in broad daylight - literally spoken - they looked nothing like the drunken guys downbelow.

I had arrived somewhere in the beginning of season one, the festival of religious beliefs had been just a few weeks earlier. I hadn´t planned to leap into this particular time, but hadn´t found out how to control the time period of the leap yet.  
Now I just wanted to take a look around, get to know the station and the people living here better, buy a human mask or a few other funny things and go home. I still had a job there and besides: There were even more dimensions out there I wanted to visit.

But for now I was quite happy watching the crowd of traders flowing through the corridors of the Red Section.

Suddenly I saw another familiar face:  
Talia Winters.

She was accompanied by an alien I´d never seen before and kept walking briskly in my direction. When her gaze fell on me, I saw her raising an eyebrow, but that probably didn´t have anything to do with me.

However, I quickly changed directions and hurried into another corridor – that was the last thing I needed: A telepath who accidently picked up my thoughts and alarmed someone. I didn´t know what she could possibly pick up or _whom_ she would alarm, but better be careful around telepaths…("_great, now I already sounded like a damn racist_").  
Anyway, maybe Talia wasn´t dangerous, but people like Bester and his groupies definitely _were_.

Again, better not take any chances…

Strolling through the market place I found a few shops – or rather stands – selling souvenirs of the station, but it was mostly junk.  
Around noon I took the shuttle and went back to the Brown Section. Outside the bar I saw a few suspicous looking people, two Drazi, a Narn and a couple of humans, but there were often Lurkers hanging around before Katar opened, so I didn´t take much notice.

I let me in and found him wiping tables. I threw my backpack behind the bar and grabbed the broom and another cloth.  
"It´s okay, Katar, I can do that."

He nodded and turned to check the stock, leaving me cleaning up the room and rinsing the glasses. Whistling I moved the broom over the floor and mopped afterwards. It´s not exactly hard work.

"Um…I just saw we don´t have any carion juice left." Katar said when he came back from the small room behind the bar. "Would you mind getting a few bottles from the supplier? He´s right around the corner."  
"Sure. How many do you need?"  
"About 50. You can take the cart."

In the store room I pushed a button on the old-fashioned (well, for _this_ dimension) "shopping cart" and it came to life with a cough. These carts can carry quite some weight, even the older models like this. I steered it in the direction Katar has pointed to and found the supplier, who helped me putting two stacks of crates onto it. On the way back it hovered in front of me, swaying only slightly. Katar was just opening the bar and I entered the room with the first few guests who practically _stormed_ the counter and ordered drinks.

I steered the cart into the store room and came back to take orders. There were none for the moment, so I grabbed a datachip I´d bought on the market and put it into the small device I also used for writing down customers´ wishes.  
It was a chip – or rather "crystal" – about the history of the Babylon stations and I started with reading about the fate of the first four spacestations – with special interest concerning the fourth, being aware of the fact that I knew more about it than most people here.

When more people came in Katar called me and I started taking orders.  
Just a normal evening.

-----ooooo-----

Around 7 o´clock there was a tumult at the entrance and a small crowd of people in dark cloaks were storming into the room.

All of a sudden five Drazi were standing in front of the counter, two had stayed behind, obviously to guard the door. All of them were armed with small phaser weapons and looked very grim.  
Their leader, a tall guy with dark green skin addressed Katar, pointing the phaser in his direction.

"You! The box!" I heard him say. From a corner of the room I watched Katar waving his tentacles in what probably was intended to be as a calming gesture.  
"Please…" he began, but the Drazi didn´t wait for him to continue.

There was a red flash and Katar fell backwards and hit the shelves with bottles behind him.

A few guests had jumped up, but the other intruders kept their weapons aimed at them and – grinding their teeth – they sat down again.  
I didn´t know what to do either. There were too many of them. I wasn´t frightened – everything had happened so fast – but I wasn´t stupid enough to try something to stop them.

The Drazi who had shot Katar reached over the counter and took a box from the shelf underneath. Then he turned around and waved his friends. Quickly they moved out of the bar. I saw some regulars hurrying after them, but they probably only wanted to get away from the site of crime before security was here.

I ran over to the counter and kneeled next to Katar.  
He waved his tentacles and was bleeding heavily from a head wound. He needed a doctor!  
I picked a familiar face from the silent crowd that closed around us.  
"Tel, please call MedLab! Now!"

He nodded hastily and used the device under the counter.

The paramedics arrived shortly after the security guards.

-----ooooo-----

I stared at Katar laying in the white bed behind the glass wall, connected to dozends of machines. The colour of his skin looked grey, a nurse checked the connection cables.  
Dr. Franklin stepped out of the revolving door and removed the white mask from his face.   
"He will be okay."

I exhaled relieved. I hadn´t realized that I´d held my breath.  
"He´s lost a lot of blood," Dr. Franklin continued, "but his race can cope with blood loss much better than humans. A few days rest and he´ll be able to go home again." He smiled, "Are you a friend?"

I hesitated.  
"Well, sort of. I started working for him about two weeks ago. He´s a really nice guy."

"Don´t worry, he´s in good hands." the doctor took a closer look at me. "Are _you_ okay? You look a bit pale."  
I nodded hastily.  
"Yes, I´m fine. But I better go now. Can I visit him again tomorrow?"  
"Of course." he extended a hand. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. …"  
I shook his hand.  
"Chris. Just Chris."  
The warm smile never faded.

"See you tomorrow, Chris."

-----ooooo-----

When I left MedLab I felt a strong need to get away from these narrow corridors. I would fetch my backpack and go home.  
_"No, you can´t do this."_ I thought_, "you can´t just leave Katar in the infirmary and go away."  
_I decided to wait until tomorrow and tell him that I wanted to take some time off.

Deep in thoughts I went around a corner and bumped into a man.  
"Uh, sorry." I looked up and into the face of Garibaldi.  
_"Oh great, must be my lucky day."_

He grinned at me.  
"That´s okay. You are Katar´s new waitress, Chris, aren´t you? I´m security chief Michael Garibaldi. Actually I was on the way to meet you in MedLab."  
"Me? Why?"  
"To ask you a few questions about the robbery."  
He looked around at the people walking by.  
"Why don´t we go somewhere quiet, where we can talk?"

I didn´t feel like a tiny office.  
"The garden!" I said firmly and after a moment of surprise he nodded in agreement.

-----ooooo-----

We walked past the stone garden towards a huge green field of alien plants.  
No one was around.  
"How long have you been on the station?" Garibaldi asked in a conversational voice.  
"A couple of weeks."  
"Where do you come from?"  
"Earth. Germany."  
He raised an eyebrow.  
"Frankfurt, by any chance?"  
"No, but not far from there."  
"My ancestors came from Europe, too. Italy, to be exact."  
_"I know."_ I thought, but remained silent.  
"It´s nearly impossible to get good spaghetti on this station, you know."  
"I´m sure you have your sources." I grinned (couldn´t resist the remark).  
He raised the other eyebrow and threw me a suspicious glance.  
"How long have you been working for Katar?"  
"Two weeks. I started by the beginning of the month."  
"Did you recognize anyone of the guys who attacked him?"  
"No, but apart from their leader they all wore these dark cloaks. And it´s pretty dim in the bar, so I couldn´t see their faces."  
"Would you recognize the leader?"  
I thought about that for a moment, then shook my head.  
"No, I don´t think so. This may sound racist, but Drazi still look all alike to me."  
He sighed.  
"That´s okay, I understand. Sometimes even I have problems to tell them apart."

Now I looked surprised.  
"No, it´s true." Garibaldi said and shrugged. "There are some people apart from the ambassador I know, but the others…anyway, did you say you came aboard the "Felicitas"?"

"I didn´t mention a ship´s name." I replied, smiling to myself. This old fox wouldn´t trick me.

"Oh. So which ship did you take?"  
I stopped and turned around to face him.  
"Mr. Garibaldi, what´s this got to do with the attack on Katar?"  
He gave me an innocent look.  
"Uh, nothing, I was only interested."

We walked a few steps in silence, then the device on the back of his hand beeped.  
"Excuse me." he pressed a button. "Garbaldi."  
"Chief? Ambassador Delenn wants to talk to you. She is waiting in your office."  
"Thank you, Pete, I´ll be there in five minutes."  
He dropped his hand.  
"I have to go. Can we continue this conversation tonight?"  
"Sure. When?"  
"Around six? I´ll come down to the bar."  
"I won´t open the bar without Katar."  
"Then nobody will disturb us."

He waved and turned away, walking quickly in the direction of the shuttle station.

_"Great, _**_must_**_ be your lucky day."_ the voice in my head remarked maliciously.

-----ooooo-----

I went back to the „Dancing Lobster" and cleaned the place up. When the bloodstains disappeared I began to feel better. I poured myself a glass of orange juice and waited for Garibaldi.  
He arrived shortly after 6.  
I let him in and went behind the counter.  
"A drink?"

"What have you got there?" he asked, pointing at my glass. He probably thought I was drowning the memory of the past events in alcohol.  
"Orange juice. Want some?"  
"Yes, please."   
I poured another glass and placed it in front of Garibaldi, who eyed it sceptically.  
"You can drink it – it´s the healthiest stuff in this room, you know." I assured him amused.  
He sipped carefully and raised an eyebrow.   
"Mhm, not bad." Then his face went serious again.  
"I heard the robbers took a small box with them. Do you know what it contained?"  
I shrugged.  
"No idea. I´ve seen it before, but never paid attention when Katar opened it."  
"Did he open it often?"  
"Three or four times while I was here."  
"Where was it?"  
I showed him the niche under the counter.  
"Mhm. He could reach it easily. A good place for a weapon."  
"If it had been a weapon he probably wouldn´t lay in MedLab right now." I remarked.  
"Right. But he´s a trader as well as a bartender. So it could have been something he was about to sell – to a customer who wouldn´t want to wait long."  
"You think this customer was so eager to get it he just sent a couple of friends to steal it?"  
"Or they were sent by a competitor who wanted the same thing."  
"That´s not very helpful – to find out who did it we´d have to find out what was in the box first."

Garibaldi raised an eyebrow – maybe he wondered what I meant with "we" – but he couldn´t stop me now.  
"Katar had a couple of meetings after I started work here. Two humans, a Narn, a Minbari and…" I thought for a moment, "…a Drazi. In fact he spent quite some time with the last one – that was on Monday. Do you think he could´ve been the customer?"  
"Well…"  
"But when he left, both looked very happy – so they were either satisfied with the trade and something came up later, or…"  
Garibaldi raised both hands in a calming gesture.  
"Slowly, slowly…for now we still don´t even know if there _was_ a trade. What if he had no intention to sell whatever was in the box in the first place? What if someone only learned about this thing, maybe even made an offer, but Katar refused?"  
"Sounds pretty unlikely to send people to steal something out of a packed bar – even when we´re talking about Downbelow here. It must have been a very valuable object."  
"Or it was just important to get it fast."  
There was a moment of silence when we both tried to imagine what could´ve been in the box.

Finally Garibaldi´s gaze wandered through the bar.  
"Why did you start working here of all places?"  
_"Oh no, not again!"_ I thought annoyed. _"Why can´t he leave me alone?"  
_"Katar was searching for a waitress and I applied. He took me. End of story."  
"There must have been better offers for someone with your qualifications."  
I looked at him sharply.  
"What exactly are you talking about?"  
He gave me the same innocent-puppy-look I had seen before.  
"I met some friends who are regulars in the Dancing Lobster. They told me you understood at least six different alien languages. That´s a bit more than the common waitress. What did you do before you came here?"

I bit my lip and didn´t respond.  
He nodded.  
"People working in Downbelow are often running away from something…or someone. If you´d tell me about it, I might be able to help you."

Sighing I looked him in the eyes.  
"I´m not on the run. I just needed money and don´t have any legal documents. Katar didn´t ask for them."

"How did you get here? I checked every ship that arrived around the time you said you came aboard. There was no passenger that matched your description."

I grinned.  
"I hopped onto my broom and flew straight to the nearest airlock."  
His expression didn´t change, so I added:  
"If I told you, you´d think I´m crazy."  
"Try me. I´ve heard lots of strange stories in the past."  
"Rather not. Really, it _is_ a crazy story and I don´t want to talk about it right now. Maybe another time."  
He wasn´t satisfied, but I couldn´t help it. Telling him the truth was out of the question. I didn´t want _anyone_ to know about this. Even in this dimension my way of travelling would be considered _weird_ at least.  
Garibaldi stared at me, obviously thinking about further questions. But now was my turn.  
"You said you talked to guests of the bar. What did you learn?"  
He didn´t respond right away.  
"They didn´t seem to know more than you. A couple of guys in cloaks entered the bar, their leader, a Drazi, shot Katar, grabbed a box from under the counter and they disappeared again."  
"What are you going to do now?"  
"I´ll ask Katar what he had in this ominous box. That´ll probably help finding out why someone took the risk of stealing it out of a packed bar. Katar may already have an idea who took it after all."

Garibaldi gulped the rest of his orange juice and rised.  
"Well, thank you for your help. With a little luck this puzzle will be solved by tomorrow."  
He smiled at me.  
"And if you ever need someone to listen to a _crazy_ story, you know where to find me."  
I smiled back.  
"Thanks Chief, I´ll keep that in mind."

"Call me Michael."

-----ooooo-----

There was nothing I could do, so I went to bed early that night. Katar had offered me the folding bed in the spare room when I´d started working for him and I had gratefully accepted. However, I couldn´t find sleep for ages.  
The next morning I walked straight to MedLab to check on Katar. There were a few guys repairing a panel outside the infirmary door. They had to squeeze a bit to let me through. When I entered MedLab Dr. Franklin just came out of the room behind the glass.

"Good Morning, Chris."  
"Morning, Dr. Franklin. How is he?"  
He smiled.  
"Better. He´ll be able to leave in two or three days."  
My gaze wandered to the motionless alien in the hospital bed. His skin still looked a bit grey, but the normal colour – a dark green – was returning as well. Katar definitely looked better than the day before.

"Can I say hello?"  
"Certainly. Go right in."

I thanked the doctor and entered the room.

Katar´s eyes flew open.  
"Chris! What are you doing here?"  
I turned the chair next to the bed around and sat down.  
"What does it look like? I´m visiting a friend in hospital. How do you feel?"  
He grunted.  
"Better than yesterday. I told the human doctor I needed to go back to my bar as soon as possible, but he said he wouldn´t let me out here until the day after tomorrow."  
"You should listen to him. He´s the expert."

Another grunt.  
"Expert, eh? Tell this expert I can´t just close the bar, not even for a few days. There are thirsty people out there I have to take care of."  
"Take it easy, they´ll still be there when you return. What I wanted to ask you, Katar: What did these guys took with them?"  
He eyed me suspiciously.  
"Now you´re talking just like this other human, Garibaldi. He left before you came. I tell you exactly what I told him: That´s my business, nobody else´s. I appreciate that you both want to help finding this Narn who shot me, but I won´t share business secrets with either of you. My business partners would never trust me again if I did."

I sighed.  
"I understand this, but…"  
"No "but". Please don´t interfere here, Chris. Some trades in DownBelow are dangerous, and many people coming there either. And not only Drazi, but other, influential people, too. I wouldn´t want you to get hurt, okay? Just stay out of this."  
I scratched my nose.  
"So are you saying there are other, powerful forces behind this theft?"  
He blinked irritated.  
"I´m not saying anything! Just stay out of this. Take…a day off, see the sights, relax. Forget the whole incident."  
I stood up and patted his tentacle.  
"Okay, I´ll try. And you try to get better – I´ll see you later."

Waving in the direction of Dr. Franklin I left MedLab quickly.

-----ooooo-----

Of course I had no intention to lay down and do nothing.  
Katar had refered to the initiators of this robbery as influential people, _other than Drazi_. So who else was there?   
The Vorlons were probably the most influential race in this universe, apart from the Shadows, but at this point of the TV-show they hadn´t been "introduced". But even if Kosh had wanted whatever was in this box – this theft seemed to be a bit too … clumsy for the mind of a Vorlon.  
Minbari, Centauri, even Narn? And the human race also had some very mighty people. But also too intelligent for this kind of assault.  
_"Hell, there are too many possibilities! I need more information!"_

On my way back to DownBelow I had a strange feeling, as if someone was following me.  
_"That´s the nerves, Chris, pull yourself together or you´ll freak out soon."_

But the feeling grew stronger and when I stopped to buy a Hot Dog (or the sausage shaped rubber that was called "Hot Dog" here) I noticed a man staring at the display of the stand next to the Hot Dog cart. He looked like someone I´d seen before, but I couldn´t remember.  
However, to test if he was really following me, I began to walk quickly in the direction of the bar, moved around a few corners and kneeled behind some containers in a loading section. There were a couple of workers around, but no one had seen me. I peeked through the slot between the containers.

Hardly 10 seconds later the man came around the same corner, stopped and let his gaze wander through the area. He was so close, I could have touched his leg. After a moment the man muttered a curse and walked briskly into the next corridor. I jumped to my feet and followed him carefully.

_"Let´s see what you´re up to, buddy." _

-----ooooo-----

The man walked in the direction of the Dancing Lobster and joined a couple of people standing near the closed entrance of the bar. Not a bad thought for I had to return to this place sooner or later. But he didn´t seem to know about the hidden back door.  
I thanked Katar silently for pointing it out to me on my 3rd day and went through the trapdoor into the store room behind the counter.

What next?

Someone was following me for no obvious reason, I still didn´t know more than before and didn´t have a clue about how to change this. I poured myself a glass of water, set it in front of me on the counter and stared at it intensively.

_"There´s not much I can do here. What about hopping back home and working on a few other things for a change?"_

No.  
I didn´t want to leave right now.  
So there was someone stalking me? Fine, I could cope with that.  
I fetched a small bottle of carion juice from the other room, filled it with the content of the glass and closed the screw-top tightly. Then it went into my trouser pocket.  
Kind of an insurance.

Just when I turned to leave the bar again, something beeped. It came from under the counter. I checked and saw a tiny device like the pad I had for writing down customers´ wishes. There was a text on the small screen. It read "Incoming call" and, curiously, I pressed the "connect" button.  
The face of a very angry Minbari appeared. He´d already opened his mouth to say something, but closed it when he saw me.  
"Who are you? Where´s Katar?"  
"I´m afraid he isn´t available at the moment. Can I take a message?" I chirped in my best secretary-voice.  
He moved closer to the screen in a threatening manner, but the monitor was too small for this effect to work.  
"I need to speak with Katar." he said slowly, as if he thought I was retarded. "Get him instantly. It is most important!"

I smiled politely.  
"I´m sure it is. But right now Mr. Katar is not available. I can take a message for him, though, and he will call you back later, if you want."  
The veins on the Minbari´s forehead grew red.  
"Tell him Jarom demands an explanation why his delivery hadn´t taken place as agreed. He´d better find a good excuse." he spat, then the screen went black.  
I put the pad back under the counter and left the bar through the trapdoor. My shadow was still standing in front of the bar. Quickly I took a side corridor and headed for MedLab to deliver the message.

-----ooooo-----

Katar wasn´t surprised to see me, neither was he to hear about the mysterious call.  
"I expected it." he simply said.  
"So Jarom was the one who was supposed to get the box?" I asked carefully.  
He threw me a short glance.  
"I didn´t say that."  
"Oh, come on, Katar, it´s pretty obvious."  
He snored.  
"I have more than one transaction to take care of right now. Stop asking about the box, will you?"  
Disappointed, I nodded.  
"Now leave me, please. There is a call I have to make."  
He reached for a pad next to his bed and I rised.  
"Later, Katar."

When I came out of his room I ran into Dr. Franklin.  
"Hello Chris. How are you today?"  
I smiled.  
"Good, thank you. And from what I´ve seen so far Katar is already much better as well. You worked a miracle."  
He waved the compliment away.  
"I told you his race can cope with blood loss much better than others. He wasn´t that badly hurt."

I was just about to respond when his communication device beeped. With an apologizing smile he raised his hand.  
"Franklin?"  
"I have three badly injured Drazi in Brown 6, Doc. They´ve been…slaughtered. Two others are already dead."  
"I´m on my way."

He began bellowing orders to his nurses and grabbed some medical instruments on the way to his office.  
I moved out of the way when two med teams rushed out of the infirmary. Slowly I followed them as they stormed in the direction of the core shuttle. The next one came shortly afterwards.

Brown 6 wasn´t far from the Dancing Lobster.

And I wasn´t exactly busy right now.

-----ooooo-----

Garibaldi was already around when I arrived.

A curious crowd had formed near the corridor and several eyewitnesses told security officers and bystanders their story. The constant murmur faded away when the first med team came out of the closed area.  
They were carrying a strecher with the body of a Drazi, covered in blood.  
The next one looked only barely alive either.

When the corpses had been brought away as well, I felt someone stepping at my side.

"Did you recognize any of them?"  
I shrugged.  
"It may have been the first one. But I´m not sure."

Garibaldi nodded.  
"They were mercenaries, arrived here just last week. Whoever did this to them must have been very angry."

He shot me a glance.  
"Maybe this person didn´t get what he wanted."

I met his gaze.  
"Or maybe it wasn´t their client but someone else. Someone who also wanted the box."  
"Do you know anything?"  
"No. It´s just a hunch."  
"Spill!"  
I shook my head.  
"Nothing I could put my finger on."  
"Don´t try anything on your own."  
I gave him a half smile.  
"Me? Never! I don´t want to end like these guys."

Again, he wasn´t satisfied with this reply, but let me go anyway.

-----ooooo-----

Rumours said only one Drazi had survived the attack, but he wasn´t in a very stable condition. I saw him on my way to Katar the next morning.  
The bartender looked a bit greyer than the day before and his tentacles kept on moving around in circles all the time.  
"Are you okay?" I asked concerned.

He was muttering in his language, something about a contract.  
"Katar! What are you talking about?"  
His gaze fell on me for the first time.  
"I shouldn´t have done it!" he exclaimed nervous.  
"What?"  
"B…Business with this guy. I knew he was dangerous, but I didn´t…"  
I sank onto the chair. This could be my chance.  
"Tell me about it." I urged, "It was this Minbari, Jarom, wasn´t it? He killed the Drazi."  
Katar´s tentacles grew even more active.  
"He wanted to get the box back. I ordered the haru-device especially for him, but somehow the Drazi knew about it."  
"What´s a haru-device?"  
"Some species use it to lengthen their lives with this device. It has great healing abilities."  
"Why would anyone kill for it? Is it that rare?"  
"No no, but for some species it can be poisonous. And it doesn´t leave a trace."  
I gasped.  
"So the Minbari wanted it to kill someone? Whom?"  
One of the tentacles grabbed my arm.  
"I don´t know! But I didn´t want to get involved with that. I told myself he just wanted it for healing purposes. I should have known better!"  
"Katar! Which species can be killed with this device?"  
"Narn, Centauri, Humans…I don´t know, maybe others…"  
I jumped up.  
"I´ve got to tell Garibaldi!"

"Chris!"  
I turned around at the door. Katar still gesticulated wildly.

"He needed it today at the latest. So the assassination must be today as well."

Dr. Franklin and his nurses only glared when I shot out of MedLab.

-----ooooo-----

When I raced into the security office I bumped into a man who was just leaving. I looked up and into the familiar face of Commander Sinclair.  
He smiled friendly.  
"Easy. You don´t want to overrun an old man, do you?"

I wished I had time for jokes, but I hadn´t.  
"Is Garibaldi there? I´ve got to talk to him!"

Sinclair´s expression grew serious as he pulled me inside the empty office.  
"He´s not here. What´s the matter?"  
"I´ve got new information about the theft in the Dancing Lobster. Seems like there was a weapon for an assassin in the box that was stolen. And this guy wants to use it today. Where´s Garibaldi?"  
"He got a call from DownBelow and went to meet with an informant."

Could Garibaldi be the target? Maybe this informant had been instructed by Jarom to bring the Chief down and kill him. There didn´t seem to be a motive, but I was willing to bet that there were a whole lot of people who wanted to see Garibaldi dead.

I turned to Sinclair.  
"Commander, it may be a setup. We´ve got to contact him immediately!"

He didn´t ask any more questions, but raised his hand.  
"Sinclair to Garibaldi!"  
Nothing.

He tried again.  
"Michael, respond!"

I jumped up and down.  
"Where did he go?"  
"Brown 5, as far as I know."

Together we ran out of the door and in the direction of the shuttle. On the way Sinclair ordered other security officers into the area.  
Aboard the shuttle, he gave me a quick glance.  
"Who are you anyway?"  
"Chris. I´m working in the Dancing Lobster, the bar where the weapon was stolen."  
Seeing his expression I added:  
"I don´t have anything to do with either the weapon or the assassin. I just happened to be there."  
When we arrived two security officers were already waiting for us.  
"We haven´t found him yet, Commander, but he could be anywhere. It´s a huge area to search."  
Sinclair shot him an angry glance.  
"We won´t find him by standing around here."  
He pointed down the corridor.  
"You´re taking this level, I´m going to the loading section."  
The officers nodded quickly and hurried away. I followed the Commander.  
"Why aren´t there more officers?"  
"We are short of security personnel right now. The next teams will arrive tomorrow."  
He increased his speed.  
"You shouldn´t be here. It could become dangerous."

I shook my head.  
"I´m staying."

He´d have to shoot me first if he wanted me out. Sinclair seemed to sense that, because he remained silent.  
We searched the area, but Garibaldi wasn´t around.

In fact, no one seemed to be around at all.

I didn´t like the silence down here and I´m quite sure the Commander had the same feelings.  
_"Looks like the rats have abandoned the sinking ship."_ I thought uncomfortably.

Suddenly a figure in a cloak moved around the corner in front of us, stopped cold, looked up for a moment – a frightened human face – , then turned and ran away.

"Kurdan!" Sinclair exclaimed surprised and broke into a run. I followed at his heels. We stormed around a few more corners and finally arrived in a warehouse area where huge containers were stored.

The cloaked figure stood at the other side of the room.  
"Kurdan, what´s the meaning of this?" Sinclair demanded.  
The figure raised his hand.  
It held a phaser weapon.  
All of a sudden I felt very sick.

"What´s the meaning of this? Who are you?"  
Sinclair´s voice was firm and showed no sign of fear. The cloaked figure rised his other arm and pulled the hood of the cloak back.

It was Jarom.

-----ooooo-----

I felt sweat appearing on my forehead.  
Jarom walked slowly in our direction.  
"I know you." he said to me, "You answered my call this morning. Is Katar still _unavailable_?"  
I was still staring at the weapon.  
"Unfortunately yes." I heard myself saying and forced my eyes to meet his gaze, "but I´m sure I could arrange a meeting for tomorrow morning."

While part of my brain felt like it was melting away, I wondered how the other part could produce a sentence in such a calm, cold voice.  
The Minbari snored.  
"This won´t be necessary. I got back what was mine and will leave soon. After I took care of everything I came here for."

With these words he raised the weapon again and faced the Commander.  
"And what a fortunate coincidence that you came down here yourself, Commander. You spared me the trouble of setting up a suitable trap for you."

I could have kicked myself.

Of course Sinclair had been Jarom´s target all along. How could I have been so blind? He obviously belonged to the warrior caste and tried to get rid of the Commander just like the guy in "The Gathering". Only this time they surely didn´t want to take any chances.

This time the order was to kill him.

"Who sent you?" I heard Sinclair asking.  
"That´s not important." Jarom waved the phaser. "This way, please."  
I glanced at the man next to me. He nodded and we started moving down the dim corridor.  
There wasn´t anything else we could do right now.  
"Don´t you think it will raise suspicion when you shoot us? Garibaldi won´t let anybody off the station. You´ll be caught for sure."

I admired Sinclair´s calmness. And with this remark he might cause Jarom to talk about what happened to Garbaldi (if he had anything to do with his disappearance) as well as his further plans for the two of us.

Not that I was so eager to find out.

Jarom chuckled without humor.  
"Your head of security had to follow the trace of a powerful drug dealer and is meeting an informant right now. He wasn´t allowed to take his communicator. Don´t worry about me leaving the station. Before your bodies are found, I´m already far away."

We walked into a room with four cubes sitting on the floor. Jarom waved us to step in the foursquare they formed.  
"I thought I´d have only one…guest, but I´m sure you´ll both fit in."  
Hesitatingly Sinclair moved into the foursquare and I followed. Jarom reached out and grabbed the communicator from Sinclair´s hand, then – the weapon still aimed at the Commander´s chest – took the water bottle from my trouser pocket.  
"What´s this?"  
"Water. People keep on telling me I don't drink enough, so I carry it around."  
That was at least halfright. I desperately hoped he would give it back, the bottle was probably our only chance out of this mess. However, it wasn´t my lucky day.  
"You won´t need it anymore." Jarom growled, stepped out of the foursquare and pressed a button on the side of one of the cubes. A blue forcefield built up around us.

"Why are you doing this? Who sent you?" Sinclair demanded again.  
With us being trapped in the forcefield, Jarom lowered the weapon and buried it in the depth of his cloak.  
"Some people are sure they can erase a very disturbing part of Minbari history with your death."  
Out of nowhere he produced a small box, the one that had been stolen from Katar´s bar. Now it was speckled with dark stains, almost certainly blood.

Drazi blood.

"I´m not sure if they are right, but it doesn´t matter. I will fulfill my assignment. Have you ever seen a haru-device, Commander?"  
"I heard about them. Some species use them for healing purposes."  
"That´s only one possibility. There are many more. The reason for earth and other planets to ban it from use is that some species – underdeveloped species – don´t respond to the waves of this device in the same manner Minbari do."

He placed the box carefully onto a nearby container and opened it.  
For all I knew the small piece of metal he took out could have been a pencil sharpener.  
An orange glow appeared at one side when Jarom pressed a few invisible buttons.

"It won´t happen quickly, I´m afraid." the assassin continued, "it takes about 5 minutes for a human to become affected by the haru-device. After 20 minutes you will be beyond hope. It will look as if you´d been killed by what your people call "heart attack". Which is quite a common way to die for a human as far as I´ve heard."

"Only for older people it is." Sinclair said carefully, "younger humans having heart attacks are barely heard of and at least Dr. Franklin will grow suspicious."  
Jarom placed the Commander´s communicator and my water bottle next to the device and walked back to our prison.  
"By the time the good doctor will have finished the autopsy, I´ll be long gone. Even if there is an investigation – nothing points to the Minbari."  
He turned and went to a corner of the room, sat on another container and picked up a small pad. When he started to read Sinclair turned to me.

"We have 19 minutes to get out of here."

Quickly I set the stopfunction on my watch. The Commander kneeled down to examine the cubes. Touching them didn´t harm him, but there was no result either. The blue wall held and the cubes never moved an inch.  
"Did you tell anyone where you were going?" he asked me while working on the forcefield. The assassin obviously didn´t mind us trying to break out. He continued reading something on his pad.  
"No, I just said to Katar I´d go to Garibaldi. He´d already confessed he´d wanted to sell Jarom the device."  
"So Jarom is his name? You think your boss informed him?"  
"I don´t know. But I don´t think so. He doesn´t seem to be that kind of guy."  
Sinclair smiled tired.  
"Didn´t anyone tell you? No one on this station is exactly what he appears to be."  
I smiled back.  
"Yeah, I heard that. Anyway, female intuition tells me he´s not involved."

The stopwatch kept on running.

00:05:34

I began to feel the effects of the device. My limbs ached and I had to sit down to avoid falling. The skin tingled and my mouth was dry. I would have given my left arm for a glass of water.

00:08:12

Water. Ice cold water. The vision of a surfer, gliding through perfect blue waves.  
I shook my head to get the hallucinations out of my mind.  
Sinclair´s breath became harder, but he continued working on the cube. With no visible result though. I wanted to ask him what he was doing, but couldn´t find the strength.  
My gaze wandered through the room, to the Minbari with the pad sitting on the container, patiently waiting for us to die. The device on the other one, next to the communicator and the water bottle.

00:11:45

Time seemed to pass faster now. The Commander sat next to the cube and kicked it twice. Nothing.  
_"We´re going to die here."_ my mind announced surprised, _"And I didn´t even have time to use the dimension portal properly."  
_What a shame. But didn´t part of this sentence contain a hint I could use?  
Dimension portal.  
The water bottle was still there, but too far away to reach.  
I stared at it and wondered how far exactly it was.  
Couldn´t I use it anyhow?  
I concentrated on my home dimension.

Nothing.

I tried harder, painting a detailed picture of my appartment in my mind.  
Nope, nothing.

I tried to picture the gargoyle dimension, any place would be better than this right now.  
Wasn´t there a blue shimmer around the glass?  
My heart was racing and I couldn´t breath very well.

00:17:09

My vision became blurry. Maybe that was why I´d seen the blue shimmer. Less than 3 minutes to live. I sank against the Commander, who had his eyes closed and looked like he was meditating.  
Suddenly Jarom was standing next to us.  
"Don´t worry, it´s over soon. Only another two of your minutes."  
He bend over to me, with a curious expression.  
"That´s no water in this bottle. It´s glowing blue. What is it?"

There was a barking sound, followed by a red flash and something smashed into the forcefield. It looked like internals from a splatter movie, but then everything looked like this right now. I heard glass smashing on the ground.  
There was a cry of surprise, a familiar voice, then Sinclair next to me, eyes wide open, muttering "…the device, Michael…destroy it…".

The forcefield went out and was immediately replaced by another blue wall I couldn´t see through. I felt this "wall" pushing against my arm and a wet cloth touching my face.

Then I passed out.

-----ooooo-----

_"…she´s doing fine…just a little rest…"_

Drowsily I opened my eyes and found a smiling man next to my bed. Not exactly a bad thing to see after nearly being killed.  
"Good morning. How´re you feeling today?" Dr. Franklin asked.  
I tried to respond, but couldn´t hear my voice, only a distant mumble.  
The doc grinned.  
"It will take a while till the effects of the haru-device wear of. Expect your voice back by tomorrow afternoon. Then we´ll talk about what happened, okay?"

Not okay.  
I shook my head – slowly – and mouthed a question.  
"The Commander is doing fine either." Franklin replied, "He´s sleeping and you´ll do the same now."  
I threw him an angry glance when he gave me the shot, but couldn´t move a muscle.  
Before I sank back into the soft cloud of unconciousness I saw another face bending over mine.

"Hey! Didn´t I tell you not to try anything on your own?" Garibaldi said and sighed dramatically, "We have a _lot_ to talk about, young lady!"

-----ooooo-----

In my dreams Ambassador Kosh was selling fortune cookies in the Blue Section.

-----ooooo-----

We were sitting in Dr. Franklin´s office.  
Neither the Commander nor I were allowed to leave MedLab yet – doctor´s orders – but we didn´t want to stay in bed anymore.  
So the meeting was transferred to the office of the first medical officer and everybody was pleased.  
That´s what diplomacy is all about.

Anyway, first there were only Sinclair, Franklin and me. The Doc informed us about what the device had done and our healing progress. I didn´t understand all the medical stuff, but he seemed to be satisfied.  
Then Susan Ivanova knocked at the doorframe.  
"Just wanted to check on the patients."   
We were introduced and she took a seat.

Next visitor was Zack Allen. He announced Garibaldi would be late for the meeting and leaned against the wall next to the door.  
I threw Sinclair a glance and raised my eyebrow.  
"What´s this all about?"  
He smiled.  
"There are still a few unanswered questions that need to be discussed."  
"But what am I doing here?"  
Ivanova´s voice came from behind.  
"We assume you have some of the answers."  
Surprised I turned to her.  
"What answers? Do I miss anything here?"

Dr. Franklin made a calming gesture.  
"Why don´t we start at the beginning?"   
"Right." Sinclair agreed and turned to me, "Would you mind telling us who you are?"  
_"Actually, yes." _Nope, I was too polite for this reply.   
But before I spilled my guts I wanted to find out how much they already knew.

It´s not like I didn´t learn anything from watching the show.

"Mhm. Why do you ask?"  
Ivanova came around and leaned against the desk.  
"_Because_ you are involved in a case of attempted murder. Someone tried to kill the Commander and you happen to work for the guy who sold the weapon."

I rised from my chair.  
"Now wait a minute! Are you accusing me…?"  
"Stop!" Sinclair´s voice was calm, but firm. I grew silent as did everyone else.

The Commander turned to me.  
"Nobody´s accusing you of anything. But we are trying to figure out who sent the assassin and why he wanted me dead. I´m sure you can imagine that I keep on asking me this question over and over again."

I nodded uncomfortably. No way I´d tell him I knew exactly why he was No. 1 target for some Minbari, especially from the warrior caste. He would find out soon enough.

"So all we want is to find out if and how _you_ fit in the whole…situation."

I sank back on the chair.  
"Let me make one thing clear: I haven´t got anything to do with the attempted assassination! Hell, I nearly got killed as well! All I wanted to do was working here for some time, seeing the sights and keeping a low profile."

Zack Allen grinned.  
"When it comes to the last you haven´t been very successful. Almost everyone on the station knows about the…incident by now – and who was involved."  
"Yeah, I figured that. But…"  
"There´s more." Dr. Franklin added and I accepted the pad he handed me. The picture it showed could have been a colorful starship for all I knew. Confused I looked at him.  
"What´s this?"  
"Your brain was scanned to find out if it had been damaged by the haru-device. As I pointed out earlier, there was no damage, but we found…something else. A parasite of some sort, who seems to have access to several brainfunctions."

I needed a moment to recover from the shock, then – suddenly – it occurred to me what he was obviously talking about.  
I exhaled relieved.  
"This parasite is called "bablefish". It serves as a translator and doesn´t influence the brain in any other way."  
"That´s why you understand nearly every common alien language here?" Sinclair asked, fascinated, and reached for the pad. I handed it over.  
"Yes, but how do you know this?"  
"Garbaldi told me about you. He mentioned your language abilities."  
Franklin took the pad back after the Commander had studied it for a moment.  
"Is it a difficult operation?"  
"No, you just take the fish and put it into your ear. It finds its own way to the right spot. It just…kind of tingles a bit."  
Before anyone could ask further questions about the nature of the bablefish, Ivanova came back to the point.  
"I´ve never heard of such a creature. So where _do_ you come from?"  
I was just considering how much I could tell them, when there was a cough from the door where Zack Allen was leaning and Garibaldi stuck his head through the frame.

"Let me rephrase this: Where do the _two_ of you come from?"

And with this he made way for half a ton blue mischievousness walking straight towards me and placing its head in my lap.  
I nearly fell from the chair.

"BRONX!"

-----ooooo-----

They watched me caressing the gargoyle´s ears. Bronx panted with delight.  
"Hey buddy, what are you doing here? I thought I´d brought you back to New York."  
Eyes without pupils stared up at me and he sniffed my fingers, working his way up to my face, licking it as he´d done before, down in the container warehouse.  
"Hehehe…yeah, I´m glad to see you, too."

He settled down at the side of my chair, taking a bit more space than your usual St. Bernhard.

When I looked up again, everybody was staring at us.  
I sighed.  
"You won´t by any chance buy the "we-just-fell-from-the-sky"-story?"  
Garibaldi leaned against the desk next to Ivanova – who had moved a few inches away – and patted Bronx´ head. The gargoyle didn´t seem to mind.  
"I´m afraid we want a better one. Preferably the truth."

I thought about this for a moment.  
"First you tell me what I missed out."

He threw a quick glance at Commander Sinclair, who nodded.

"Okay. I found out about a drug deal in Brown 11 that was about to take place yesterday and met an informant to learn more. Seems like this guy had been paid for keeping me busy till the Minbari … finished his assignment. While I was with the guy, suddenly this…" he pointed at Bronx.

"Gargoyle." I added cheerfully.

"…gargoyle came out of nowhere and acted like Rin Tin Tin. Ran around us for some time until my informant was so shaken he blurred out his part of the story. I left him there and followed my new friend to the other side of Sector Brown. You know the rest."  
I thought hard about the last seconds I remembered.

"You shot Jarom? To death?"  
"I had to, given the circumstances. He´d already killed one of my other sources, a guy named Kurdan."  
I nodded slowly.  
"Just wanted to check."

I bent over to Bronx.  
"Looks like you have your own little secrets, buddy, haven´t you?" and ruffled his ears.  
He yipped in approval and licked my hand.  
"Okay", I said and leaned back, "the truth."

My gaze fell on the person standing in the doorframe and I gasped.  
All eyes went to the door. Ivanova and Garibaldi jumped up when they saw the man, Zack Allen flinched and Sinclair rised from his chair slowly and with a frown.  
"Mr. Bester. I understood you were on your way back to earth."  
The Psi Cop smiled his usual patient smile.  
"I was ordered back to the station just a few hours ago. Even had to change shuttles on the way. But please…" he waved, "…keep your seat, Commander. I heard you had a rough day and certainly don´t want to interrupt your meeting."

"This meeting is confidential!" Garibaldi growled.  
He wanted to say more, but caught a glance from Sinclair and stopped.  
"Oh yes?" Bester said cheerfully, "Then maybe you should consider closing the door next time. There are people who´d take advantage of an opportunity like this." He stared at Garibaldi.  
"Bad people."

Garibaldi grind his teeth, but didn´t reply.  
Sinclair stepped between the two and turned to Bester.  
"How can I help you this time, Mr. Bester?"

"Ah, Commander, I´m here to help _you_. I heard about the incident with the Minbari assassin and that you were rescued with the help of at least one unknown…alien lifeform. I was sent to assist you in the first contact situation."

Great.  
Just what I needed.  
A telepath who searched my mind while I was telling them my story.  
Or at least the part I felt sure about telling.  
Not a very pleasant thought.

Speaking of thoughts – I´d better try to conceal mine, at least till I got hold of some water and could hop out here. I searched my mind for a song to recite (I don´t know so many poems) and found only "Ghostbusters".

Better than nothing.

_"When there´s something strange in the neighbourhood, we them call…Ghostbusters…"_

Sinclair still blocked Bester´s way.  
"Who sent you?"  
Bester gave him a pad.  
"Here are the orders."  
The Commander took the pad and started to read. After a moment he lowered it.  
"You must be kidding! A scan? Since when is this first contact policy?"  
"It´s in earth´s – and the station´s – best interest. And it had been confirmed by Admiral Powel personally. He only answers to the president…"  
"I know who Admiral Powel is!" Sinclair interrupted im bruskly.

_"I´m afraid in no ghost…"  
_No, but the uncomfortable feeling grew.  
Bronx, sensing my mood, started to growl deep inside his throat. I continued to stroke him.  
_"…an invisible man sleeping in your bed…who can you call…Ghostbusters."_

Sinclair turned to us with a helpless expression.  
"I´m afraid I can´t do anything. Mr. Bester has his orders."

_"I´m afraid in no ghost!"  
_"I understand." I said calmly and to Dr. Franklin, "Could I have something to drink?"  
He nodded and ordered some water through the intercom.  
"The nurse will bring it in a minute."

Bester had finally walked around Sinclair and introduced himself.  
"You see", he went on in my direction, "I´m sure neither you nor your friend are a danger to anyone, but… well, a surface scan of your mind would remove all doubts. It doesn´t even hurt."

_"Yeah, right. As if I´d believe you, Mister. Scans can hurt like hell when you try to resist."_

Cursing silently I continued reciting the Ghostbuster-song. Where was the nurse with the water?

The Psi Cop sat down in Sinclair´s chair and Bronx´ growl grew louder.  
Was there a touch of insecureness in Bester´s eyes?  
But he kept his seat and stared at me as if I was some kind of interesting artefact.  
"Just relax. This won´t take long."  
_"As if I could relax right now – where´s this damned nurse? Does she have to search for a water hole, for God´s sake?"_

Bester´s eyes narrowed and I prepared for the pain.

It never came.

I didn´t feel anything, apart from the trembling of Bronx´ body under my hands, his growl sounding like a truck engine.

After a moment Bester removed his glove from one hand.  
"Would you give me your hand, please?"  
Garibaldi stepped forward.  
"Now one moment – you asked for a surface scan and you got it! What else do you want?"  
The Psi Cop looked slightly irritated.  
"The scan was not successful. I need to touch her."

He reached for my hand, still on Bronx´ head, but fast as lightening the gargoyle had jerked his head and Bester let out a cry of surprise as his hand disappeared in Bronx´ fang.

I heard shocked gasps all around me and jumped up.  
But the gargoyle didn´t bite his victim. He just sat there, with Bester´s hand between his teeth and looked at him.  
"Just…relax." I studdered, hoping desperately Bronx wouldn´t act differently from his usual self.

From the right side I heard a snigger that sounded like Garibaldi´s. Zack Allen still looked a bit horrified, Ivanova´s mouth twitched a little and Sinclair and Franklin glanced over at me without a readable expression.

I kneeled next to my blue friend and touched his cheek.  
"It´s okay, Bronx, let him go."  
The gargoyle moved his head to the side as if to ask "are you sure?" and Bester winced painfully.  
"C´mon Bronx, do it."

With a snore he opened his fang and Bester quickly pulled his hand back.  
"This…this…_thing_ should be locked up!" the Psi Cop gasped.

Bronx growled again and my nervousness changed to anger.  
"It was just a warning. He didn´t even scratch the skin."  
_"Don´t act like a baby." _I added in my mind, but Bester didn´t seem to hear the thought.

Dr. Franklin moved over to take a look at the hand, but Bester had already turned away and covered it with his glove. The doctor shrugged and stepped back as the Psi Cop left the room.

At the door he looked back again.  
"There will be an investigation about this matter!"

With this he turned and stormed out of MedLab.

When he was gone, Garibaldi and Ivanova burst out laughing and the security chief kneeled next to Bronx to pat his back.  
"That was a great show - you should get a medal for this! Boy, I think I´ve never had so much fun since we blew up our last starbase, Jeff!"

Sinclair sat down in the chair Bester had abandoned and threw us a thoughtful glance. He was smiling a little as well, but – or so it seemed – more about his friend´s enthusiasm than the situation.  
"I don´t know, Michael, I don´t like to have Bester as an enemy. The man is dangerous. And…" with this he turned to me, "…now he certainly thinks you´re hiding something. This little incident won´t stop him."

I hung my head.  
"I know. But how come he didn´t read Bronx´ mind and saw the…attack coming? And why couldn´t he read _my _mind in the first place?"

"This is a question I may be able to answer." Dr. Franklin said and waved the pad with my brain scan, "I´d have to run a few tests to be sure, but I think the reason for him not being able to read _your_ mind is the bablefish."

"What? How?"

"It covers the speech centre of the brain completely and everything that comes in is filtered through a very complicated system, then translated and sent to its destination. We don´t know enough about the human brain yet to exactly say how it works…but there´s a chance that the filter system operates like some kind of wall a telepath can´t get through."

He threw a last glance on his pad and put it back on his desk.  
"Anyway, I don´t know where you got the bablefish from, but I´d wish I had one myself. Could come in handy here. Not only as a block against telepaths."

I shook my head. That was just too much for one day.  
"What about Bronx?"

The doctor bent over and stroke the gargoyle´s head. Bronx apparently enjoyed being the center of attraction and closed his eyes with a joyous wail.  
"I don´t know. But then I´ve never seen a creature like him before. Who knows what his brain is really capable of?"

Ivanova had stepped closer as well. She seemed to warm up to my blue pal now and her voice had lost some of its sharpness.  
"Let´s come back to where we were when Bester interupted. You wanted to tell us your story?"  
"Uh…right." I remembered, sat back and began, not without throwing a glance at the door. Zack Allen went over and closed it with a wink in my direction.  
"Enough surprises for today."

I smiled back and began, nodding in Garibaldi´s direction.  
"As I told you before, I´m from Germany. You probably checked this information and didn´t found anything about me at all. That´s because I´m from the earth of another dimension. We have the year 2002 right now and it should be similar to your historic records. One day I went over a flea-market and found this weird old book..."

-----ooooo-----

I hadn´t told them anything about "B5-The Series" or Jan Michael Straczynski (sorry Jan). Only about the dimension portal and my travels to the gargoyle dimension, where I´d met Bronx and found this mysterious prediction in an old book. I didn´t even mention it was a magic book.  
And I "forgot" to tell them about the water-connection, though I´m sure Sinclair and Garibaldi know there´s more to the story than I told them so far.

Hey, this is Babylon 5 after all – let me at least keep a few secrets!

-----ooooo-----

Three weeks later.

"Hey Chris!"  
I stopped and Bronx wagged his tail when Zack Allen moved through the masses of people that swarmed around the Docking area.  
"Hey Zack." I greeted back. Bronx yipped cheerfully, what caused several people nearby to take a few steps back. With a gargoyle at your side you _always_ have enough space, even in a packed room.  
"You two want to grab something to eat? We could go to the new Narn restaurant – I heard the meat balls are fantastic."  
"Maybe another time, I have to pick someone up for Katar."  
He made a face, then sighed.  
"Okay, another time. So how´s he?"  
"You know Katar. Nothing can upset him."

After cooperating with Garibaldi, the chief of security had pulled some strings and helped the barman out of the mess he´d caused. He could keep his bar, and that mattered more to him than avoiding a possible prison sentence.

"I heard you´re leaving soon." Zack continued with a questioning glance.  
"Yeah, I have to. Lots of work to catch up with at home. In fact, I´m here to welcome a new waitress - a cousin of Katar´s as far as I know."

We waited in silence as the passengers of the last shuttle were floating into the Docking area. A tall figure with two purple tentacles moved hesitatingly through passenger´s control and walked slowly onto B5-territory.

I nudged Zack slightly.  
"There she is. I gotta go."  
"Sure. See you later then. Oh, by the way: Are you coming to Garibaldi´s pasta night?"  
"I wouldn´t dare missing that." I grinned, "He´d hunt me down if I tried."  
"Fair enough." Zack smiled and walked away.

I joined the group of family members and company employees who were waving at the people they had come for. Bronx fulfilled his usual assignment and kept a 2 metre circle around me free. From a distance it must have looked as if I was walking under a glass dome. I felt a bit like a leper.

Katar´s cousin spotted me instantly and walked over.  
"You must be Chris. Katar told me you couldn´t be overlooked. I´m Kari." and she shook my hand in a very earth-like manner with one of her tentacles.  
"Hi Kari. Welcome to Babylon 5. Katar´s already waiting for you." I smiled and gestured in the direction of the core shuttle that would bring us to the Brown section.   
"This way, please."

-----ooooo-----

Sinclair let me in when I arrived at Garibald´s quarters.  
"Hello, Chris. Come on in, the spaghetti are nearly finished."

With a wink he took the bottle of orange juice I´d brought and disappeared in the kitchen area. I stepped in the room and glanced around. Everything looked as I knew it from the show. I grinned when I saw the Daffy Duck poster at the wall. My brother´s got the same.

"Ambassador Delenn officially apologized for Jarom´s actions." Sinclair announced when we were finally sitting around the table.  
Interested Ivanova looked up.  
"Did she say anything about his motivations or who sent him?"

A thin smile appeared on the Commander´s face.  
"Of course not. She said the Minbari gouvernment was still investigating the matter."

_"Investigating the matter…"_

"That reminds me", I said and rolled a few noodles on a spoon, "did Bester try anything since he went out of MedLab?"  
Garibaldi shook his head.  
"No. At least not that we know of. I have a few people keeping an eye on him, though, while he is on the station."  
"One of them a dark haired guy with a scar between the eyes, by any chance?" I asked innocently.

Garibaldi grinned.  
"I´d already assumed you´d found out about him. Yeah, it´s the same guy I sent after you. You lost him pretty quickly, I´ve heard."

I grinned back.  
"I knew I´d seen him before, but only remembered where after the attack, when I was laying in MedLab. He´d been working outside the Lab repairing a panel, when I visited Katar for the 2nd time."

"He was actually waiting for you. But I´m sure he´ll be more careful now. By the way: He was the one I told where I was going before I went to the meeting with the informant the other day – but due to the fact that we were short of personnel – and as this seemed to be only a routine meeting - he left the office for another emergency."

Zack was still fighting with a very long spaghetti.  
"Did Bester ever approach you again in the past few weeks?"

I shook my head.  
"No, but Bronx was always with me when I met him, maybe that´s why. He already starts growling when Bester´s near us – he gets this reddish glow in the eyes as well – it´s like a compass needle pointing in the direction of possible trouble."

They laughed and Dr. Franklin helped himself to another bowl of salad.  
"Where is your friend today?"

I shrugged.  
"No idea. He vanished this morning, he does that sometimes. Probably touring DownBelow. By now he should already be back annoying Katar and the regulars in the bar."

After a questioning glance around the people at the table Ivanova took the rest of the spaghetti.  
"Why was the device stolen in the first place? What did the Drazi wanted to use it for?"

Garibaldi scratched his head.  
"I´d be damned if I knew, Susan. There are always people who pay for this kind of instrument. Maybe something comes to light sooner or later."

Zack had finally given up and cut his spaghetti with fork and spoon. Garibaldi groaned as if in pain.  
"You´re supposed to spin the fork … like this … till you have all the noodles on your spoon."

Zack threw him an apologizing glance.  
"Sorry, Chief, but I´d rather eat them instead of playing around."

This caused another wave of laughter and Sinclair patted Zack´s shoulder.  
"You´d better practice this till next time - _some_ Italians insist on perfect table manners when eating pasta."

If looks could kill...

Later Commander Sinclair and Dr. Franklin walked me back to DownBelow.  
"Why are you _really_ carrying this bottle around?" the Commander asked me curiously and pointed to the bottleneck sticking out of the my back trouser pocket.  
"You never know when you might need water." I replied grinning and quickly changed the subject.  
"Stephen, did you find anything new after the last tests?"  
"Nothing", was the answer, "there´s only so much you can test with conventional instruments. But as you don´t want to let - for example - Talia Winters assist me with the tests, I won´t find out more."

I shook my head.  
"Maybe another time. When Bester isn´t snooping around here anymore."

Sinclair nodded.  
"No one can blame you for being careful."

After walking around the next corner, we stopped cold.  
Three men were standing in the dim corridor.  
The one in the middle was Bester.

"What the…?"  
"Commander, I have new orders concerning this girl. She is to accompany me to earth for further questioning by the Psi Corps."

I snored.  
"Yeah, right – and where do you hide the army that makes me go with you?"

Even more confident than usually Bester stepped forward and smiled.  
"I don´t need an army." He looked around as if searching for something. "As far as I can see your little bodyguard is not here to protect you."

I clenched my teeth.  
"What did you do with Bronx?"

He gave me a hurt look that made me want to kick his butt.  
"Nothing. I just took the liberty of arresting the … creature for further tests. Who knows, it might be the result of an illegal bio-experiment."

Before I could tell him what I thought about him and his attitude, Sinclair put an arm on my shoulder.  
"Who signed the orders?"  
"You don´t need to know, Commander, it´s Psi Corps business."  
"How come?"  
"This girl can block her mind from a P12, that makes her very powerful. We just want to know why she´s here, that´s all."  
"Liar!" I spat, "You probably want to open my brain with a scalpel to find the information you are searching for."  
"Of course not. We are no monsters." he said in his irritated voice, "All we are here for is to ensure the security of earth and Babylon 5."

I really wanted to jump back home right now, but I had to take care of Bronx first.

One of the other guys stepped forward and Bester turned around in shock.  
"What?! How?!"  
Something was going on and obviously it wasn´t pleasant for Bester.  
I began to feel better.  
Then the third guy – also a Psi Cop of course – moved away from the scene and Bester turned around again.

"You shouldn´t try to resist. And if you think Commander Sinclair or Dr. Franklin could help you – they can´t. Even if they were stupid enough to try, Mr. Larson here", he pointed at the remaining Psi Cop, "will make sure they aren´t capable of doing so."

I turned and saw he was right. Both men grind their teeth, but couldn´t move a muscle. "Now if you´d please follow me…"

Suddenly he seemed to be in a hurry.  
There could be only one explanation.  
I grinned as half a ton blue fury stormed around the corner and stopped at my side, growling like a chainsaw.

"Good boy, Bronx."

Unfortunately he was followed by a couple of people in dark uniforms armed with phaser weapons. I made a quick decision.  
"Commander Sinclair, Dr. Franklin, it was a pleasure to meet you. Mr. Bester, with you it wasn´t. Anyway, please excuse us, we have to leave now."  
Smiling in the direction of the men in the B5-uniforms I took the bottle out of my pocket, unscrewed it and concentrated.

When the blue circle grew everyone stared at it in amazement. Larson was so busy getting away from me that he broke the connection to Sinclair and Franklin. They stepped back a little as well when the wind started to drag them to the portal.

Sinclair was the first to regain control. He threw me a broad smile and lifted his arm in a subtle greeting.

I waved back.  
"I´ll see you soon. Say goodbye to Susan, Zack and Michael from me, okay?"

With this I jumped into the blue opening, closely followed by Bronx.

-----ooooo-----

Back in my appartment, I burst out laughing. Bester´s face had been prizeless! He was probably still standing there asking himself what went wrong.  
"Hey Bronx, what do you think? Should we order pizza to celebrate our victory over the Psi Corps?"  
The gargoyle barked twice and I took the menu from the cork board.  
"Pizza Hawaii? With extra ham?"

He wagged his tail and hopped in a circle. Sometimes I´m really wondering if he can actually understand me.

We shared a family pizza, then – laying next to him on the carpet – I balanced the "Guide For The Dimensional Traveller" on my knees and thought about my next destination.  
"Wherever I go, buddy," I told the yawning gargoyle slowly, "I stumble into dangerous situations. Of course that´s the nature of my favourite shows and books. Anyway, I think I should prepare a little for next time, what do you think? I can´t always depend on you saving me."  
Bronx sniffed the empty pizza carton, but there was nothing left. Disappointed he wailed and pressed his head against my shoulder.

"Of course I ordered a second one. Wait a sec, I´ll get it."

On my way to the small kitchen I made a list of places where I could get the kind of education I was looking for. Only one school offered everything: The Assassins' Guild´s school of Discworld.  
I looked at my desk where a huge pile of folders clearly indicated that I had to stay in my home dimension for a few days.  
While Bronx gobbled the second family pizza, I hopped on the internet to order the latest Terry Pratchett book (for research purpose) and started to get rid of my paperwork.

Discworld would have to wait for at least another week or so. But then I´d make an appointment with Lord Downey.

Rubbing my hands I thought of the people I was most likely to meet on my trip to the Disc.

Rincewind  
Granny Weatherwax  
The Librarian  
Nobby Nobbs  
Susan Sto Helit

DEATH

Well, hopefully not a business meeting.

-----ooooo-----

End (of Part 3)


	5. IV A Discworld Experience

Author: Wyrd Sister  
Fandom: Discworld (with a short trip to B5 later on)  
Disclaimer: I know you know, so I keep it brief: I own nothing apart from Chris and the other characters I make up on the way.  
Unfortunately I´m not making money with this story. But presents and cheques (and most of all: reviews) will be gratefully accepted… grin 

Rating: Suitable for all ages  
Summary: Dimension travels are possible after all! Join Chris and leap into the Discworld universe. What would YOU do if you had the chance?

* * *

You are about to hear the story of a traveller between worlds, between dimensions that have only one thing in common: All of them had been created by people of this world – my home world, the world you´re living in. My name is Christine, I´m 20 years old and live in Germany. And not long ago I had an experience most people dream of all their lives…now I can jump into TV- and book-dimensions, visit the heroes and their sidekicks - and jump back home whenever I want (IF I have some water - for whatever reason - to do the trick).**Chris´ Chronicles**

_Journal of a Dimension traveller_

Part 4 – A Discworld Experience

Darkness all around me.  
And strange noises, metallic noises.  
And shuffling and moaning.

Where the hell was I?

On the other hand – especially when considering the noises - did I really want to know?

Suddenly a light appeared in a distance and began to move in my direction. I decided it was too slow to be a train, so I just backed away a bit and waited for its owner to come closer.

Actually I had intended to leap into the garden of Unseen University. From the Discworld computergame (the first one that is) I knew my way around town from there. Instead I stood in an old room with a funky smell. It seemed to be a huge room as well, because the light hadn´t moved much closer in the past seconds. I still couldn´t see my sorroundings.

Suddenly the light disappeared and I cursed silently. Why didn´t I bring a torch?  
"Because it wouldn´t have fit in this environment." the voice in my head explained patiently.

Right.

Anyway, here I was, stuck in a room full of weird noises and a strange – but not unfamiliar – smell. It smelled…old. Like in a retirement home. Well, not exactly, but…there was wax and…

Something touched my shoulder and, with a gasp, I whirled around.

A red cushion with a lantern in its hand eyed me suspiciously.  
"Hi", I said to the Librarian, "sorry if I disturbed you. Can you show me the way out of here?"  
"Ook." was the simple reply and a strong hairy hand took my arm and pulled me away from the corner with the bookshelf marked "vary dansherus, do not feet!"

There was a disappointed shuffling followed by a crackling sound – like chains –, then everything went quiet.

The orang-utan led me through a labyrinth of packed bookshelves till we came to a small table near a wooden door. He placed the lantern carefully on the desk and turned to me.  
"Ook?!"  
"It´s hard to explain. I must have…taken a wrong turn. Actually I wanted to land in the garden."  
"Ooook?"

I felt it didn´t matter, so I told him.  
"From another dimension. But I´d like to keep it a secret."  
The Librarian scratched his head, found a flea and ate it absently. Then he nodded.  
"Ook."  
"Thank you. My name is Chris, by the way." I said and extended my hand, which he shook.  
"Oook."  
"Well, if you don´t mind…I´m on my way to the Assassins´ Guild. You know if Lord Downey´s still headmaster?"  
"Ook."  
"Thanks a lot. See you later!"

I left the library and found myself in a hallway leading to a huge wooden portal. No one was around when I stepped into the dim morning light, but this didn´t surprise me much since most of the wizards wouldn´t be up before noon.

Walking towards the outside portal that separated UU from the rest of the city I hesitated, then changed my route and went along the stone wall till I found what I was looking for: The "secret" passage wizards and students used when they came home late at night after spending the evening drinking in the "Mended Drum".

Grinning I ducked and went through.

-----ooooo-----

I was actually standing in Ankh-Morpork. The capital of the Discworld.

I took a deep breath…and nearly chocked.  
The smell was indeed breathtaking.  
Like a cadaver.

Obviously Terry Pratchett´s discriptions were indeed very … accurate. And with sudden shock I realized it was about to become a warm summer´s day.  
Well, you probably got used to it after a while.

At least I desperately hoped so.

-----ooooo-----

Ankh-Morpork.  
Nothing can prepare you for this city.  
It´s loud and smelly and the streets are full of people: humans, dwarfs, trolls, merchants, beggars - the pale guy in the shredded clothes looked pretty much like a zombie.

Donkeys pulled carts with vegetables and fruits through the narrow streets and occassionally someone emptied a bucket from a second-floor window. A stray dog marked his territory at a house wall. It didn´t look very ugly, so it probably wasn´t Gaspode.

I followed the main street, knowing exactly where I was and where I had to go.

Five minutes later I was completely lost.

-----ooooo-----

After walking by some of the city´s sights (like Harga´s House of Ribs and the Mended Drum) I spotted Carrot Ironfoundersson in the crowd and squeezed myself through to him.

"Excuse me, Captain? Could you show me the way to the Assassins´ Guild House?"  
"Of course." he smiled, "you are almost there. This is God Street. You see the building over there? This is the Fools´ Guild. Take the next turn – that would be Filigree Street – the house right next to it."  
"Thanks a lot, Captain."

"My pleasure."

I turned around and went in the direction he´d pointed to.

He looked a bit different, of course, but Carrot always reminded me of Constable Benton Fraser from the TV-series "Due South". One as straight and dutifull as the other. And good-looking, too.

Grinning I arrived at the huge portal of the Assassins´ Guild.

It was open (as always) and no one in sight.

-----ooooo-----

I marched through the forecourt and entered the building.  
The stairs were remarkably clean.  
In fact they looked like nobody ever used them.  
Of course this was true, since Assassins prefered walls and windows.

I knocked at the door with the sign saying "Lord Downey, Headmaster" and a pleasant voice allowed me to enter.

A thin grey-haired man in his early 50s (maybe a bit older, I´m not very good at guessing) sat behind the huge wooden desk. Lots of paperwork was spread out in front of him. He gave me a friendly smile, placed the feather he was writing with carefully back in the inkwell and rised.

"Good Morning, young lady. How can I help you?"  
"Good Morning, Lord Downey." I resisted the habit of offering my hand, but nodded instead. Better be careful around Assassins. You can get killed by a simple accident.  
"My name is Christine Stein. I´d like to have a word with you about enrolling at your school."

He raised an eyebrow.  
"I´m very sorry, but you are…" he stopped, "I mean, usually children start their education at the age of eight, sometimes nine. You…" he stopped again, obviously looking for a polite version of telling me I should collect my false teeth and search for the next retirement home.

"I´m 20 years old." I told him patiently, "and I could easily skip some of the lessons, like language or geography. It´s more the…fighting skills I´m interested in."  
He threw me a sharp look.

"Miss Stein, I don´t think you are aware of what you are asking for. The Assassins´ Guild provides the best education you will find in- or outside of Ankh-Morpork. What you call "fighting skills" are regarded as important as, for instance, history or language skills. You can´t just "skip" them."

I sighed.  
"Ask me anything in any language you know."

When he hesitated, I nodded.  
"Anything."

The headmaster thought for a moment, his gaze resting on me, then made a noise like - let´s face it - a pig.  
Only a moment later the bablefish delivered the translation.  
"From someplace called "Germany"," I answered smiling, "it´s a very small country near…Überwald."  
There was another question, growled this time.  
"No, there´s neither werewolf nor vampire blood in my veins."

The questioning went on, but - again - the bablefish did a fantastic job.

Finally Lord Downey raised the other eyebrow as well.  
"Most impressive. However, there´s no way for you to join the school, I´m afraid. We start with very young children for a reason. They learn faster. And they are more likely to survive when raised within these walls."

I wasn´t about to give up yet.  
"I know it´s tough. All I ask for is a chance to prove myself."

"Do you have any idea what an Assassin´s education costs?"

That was a weak point. Having arrived only hours ago I didn´t have any money. But I hadn´t thought much about this – first I´d wanted to talk to Lord Downey.  
"Mhm. Not exactly."  
"It´s not only money, but effort from every member of the teaching staff. And – please don´t misunderstand me – it´s more likely for you to end up dead."  
"What about private lessons? I´d have a better chance if I took some of them, right?"  
"Our teachers are occupied with the normal lessons already…"  
"There certainly are a few guys who just finished school, aren´t there? They could do it."

The headmaster scratched his nose.  
"An unusual idea."

Then he shook his head as if to get rid of an unpleasant thought.  
"No, I´m afraid, young lady, I can´t help you."

A look in his face shattered the last bit of hope.  
"Thank you for your time, Lord Downey." I said disappointed, turned…and nearly ran into a woman standing behind me. My hand went in the direction of the bottle I was carrying, but I caught myself in time. The woman – very elegantly dressed in a black pantsuit – smiled at me and opened the door to let me out.

Astonished I managed to glide out without letting either one of the two Assassins out of my sight, then the door closed and I stood on the stairway again.

"That could have gone better."

-----ooooo-----

What now?  
"Well, you´re in Ankh-Morpork for the first time, why not seeing some sights?"

I didn´t really feel like it, but maybe meeting some „celebrities" would cheer me up.

Bridges and all sorts of temples were my first destination. Especially the priests of the crocodile-god Offler did a great show complete with goat sacrifice and everything.

Walking through the harbour area and – later – through the beautiful streets of Ankh and marvelling at the houses of the rich and famous didn´t cost anything either. I didn´t see the "Sunshine Sanctuary for Sick Dragons", but was already too tired to continue my search. It was already getting dark when I spotted a building with a familiar sign.

The "Mended Drum".

Near the popular bar I saw C.M.O.T. Dibbler.  
There was no mistake about his identity, because he was running around with a wooden tray in front of his belly, selling his infamous sausages.  
He approached me when I crossed the place to take a look at the inside of the Drum.  
"Sausage? Inna bun?"  
"No, thank you."  
"These are my last ones!", he exclaimed, "I can give you both for…half the usual price. And I cut me own…"  
"Sorry, Mr. Dibbler", I said while turning my pockets inside out, "I haven´t got any money on me."

A half-eaten muffin and two small coins fell out of the left pocket and I caught them in midair.  
"So what are these, then?" Dibbler asked sceptically.  
"10 and 50 Pfennig. Money from my country. You wouldn´t want it."  
While talking we had moved inside the Drum and were standing at one of the tables near the bar. I spotted the Librarian, Nobby Nobbs (no way to be mistaken about his identity!), Sergeant Colon, some travellers holding huge beer jugs in a corner, and a couple of wizards playing cards.

Dibbler´s eyes never left the coins in my hand.  
"I tell you what. I´ll swap these…worthless coins with two of my marvellous sausages-inna-bun. I only use the best meat for them."

Sighing I looked at the buns.  
"I take one for one coin."  
"But…"  
"Take it or leave it, Mr. Dibbler."

With amazing speed he handed me a bun and I gave him the 10-Pfennig-coin.  
"You are a good trader, young lady. And it´s just Dibbler. Or Throat."  
"I´ll see you around, Throat." I grinned when he left and took a bite of the sausage.  
Then another.

Suddenly the conversation around me seemed to die down.  
I looked up and found everyone staring at me. I turned my head, but there was only the wall behind me. I turned it back and eyed the people suspiciously.  
"What?!"  
An old wizard rised from his seat.  
"That´s one of Dibbler´s sausages, isn´t it?"  
"Yeah, so what?"  
"Um…don´t you feel like…running out of the bar in a hurry?"  
"No…"  
Another one pointed at me with his staff.  
"You don´t want to roll over the floor screaming?"  
"Actually, I´d rather drink something." I said and showed the bartender the silvery 50-Pfennig-coin. "Do I get a lemonade with this?"

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded and reached for a bottle with yellow liquid and a milky glass. I slid on a seat at the counter, next to the Librarian, who lifted a finger and was brought another bowl of peanuts.

Everyone watched me gulping the last piece of my bun. When I showed no sign of unusual behaviour (well, that was obviously considered "unusual behaviour") the disappointed guests went back to their conversations.

The Librarian peeled a peanut and pushed the bowl in my direction.  
"Oook?"  
"Thank you."  
I took a nut.  
"Ook?"  
"Not very good, I´m afraid. I just wanted to find out how to get a proper education at the Assassins´ School, but Lord Downey didn´t give me much of a chance."  
"Oook."  
I looked up and met his gaze.  
"No, I don´t feel like choking and wailing, thank you very much. What´s wrong with you people? It was just a sausage-inna-bun – it didn´t even taste so bad."  
There was pure astonishment in the ape´s eyes. Then he patted me on the shoulder and raised his arm.  
I followed the pointing finger and saw a very pale man in a corner of the room, sitting on a chair, holding his belly and groaning loudly. His head jerked to the side every once in a while.

"Ook!"  
"Sensible stomach?" I suggested.  
"Ook!!"  
I raised my hands in a calming gesture.  
"Okay, okay, then my behaviour is a bit…weird, but you see – when you eat at McDonald´s often your stomach either builds up a stronger skin or you die sooner or later."  
"Oook?"  
"A fastfood place in my dimension. A bit like Harga´s House of Ribs, only with paper hats. All kinds of burgers and stuff. Probably similar ingredients to those Dibbler uses for his takeaways. It´s just a bit more expensive."

The Librarian shook his head.  
"Eeek!"  
"Some people try to avoid it. But my generation is quite addicted to the food. To be honest: McDonald´s hamburgers taste a bit like Dibbler´s sausages…"  
"Ook. Oook!"

I shrugged and ate another peanut.  
"Dibbler seems to make good profits as well."

Suddenly another wizard stormed into the bar. "Wizzard" was written on his worn out pointy hat. A large wooden chest on dozends of little legs followed at his heels.  
Fascinated I watched as Rincewind ordered something to drink, gulped it, turned around and stormed out again. The Luggage stayed a little while longer, walked around the tavern and begged (or rather "demanded") the guests for a drink or whatever they had on their plates. It was given without hesitation.

Occassionally it bit someone who didn´t drop their food fast enough.

When it came to me, I shrugged and showed him the empty peanut bowl.  
"Sorry pal, you´re too late."

The Luggage opened its lid and clacked angrily. The Librarian had already found a save place on a rod under the roof. Quick footsteps indicated that several people had backed away and left the bar in a hurry.  
The majority waited.

Preferably near the door.

I slid from my chair and crouched next to the snarling chest. It obviously hadn´t expected this, since everyone seemed to try to stay away from it, even increase the distance if possible.  
I patted its lid and heard a few groans from the crowd.  
"Tell you what, buddy," I said and searched my pockets, "I still have a piece of muffin left, how ´bout this?"  
The lid raised and again several people stepped away a bit. My muffin disappeared between clean sheets and underwear and I heard a satisfied munch.  
"Now that´s a good…Luggage. It´s already dark outside. Why don´t you follow your friend in case he runs into some bad guys?"

Irritated the lid clacked again, then the Luggage moved in the direction of the exit. Panic broke out among the people near the door (about 97% of the guests) and everybody moved out of the way as quickly as possible.

Then the wooden chest had left and the Librarian dropped heavily back on his seat.  
"Oook!!"  
"It´s just like a big dog," I assured him, "if you treat it nicely and aren´t afraid of it…well, then there is nothing to be afraid of."

The orang-utan obviously didn´t share my opinion. When he turned around to leave I got up as well.  
"Would you mind if I walked back with you? As far as I heard, Ankh-Morpork can be quite dangerous at night."

-----ooooo-----

A worn-out mattress and a pillow stuffed in a bookshelf were my bed for the night.

I´d slept under worse conditions before (some hostel-beds in Australia have mattresses thin as paper, with thick wooden bars underneath – in different heights, of course), and at least it was warm and dry.  
The Librarian slept a few shelves further up.

In the middle of the night I was woken by singing and stamping. The members of the faculty were coming back from the bar. Grinding my teeth I tried to go back to sleep, but it was impossible.

Sighing I got up, left the snoring Librarian and walked out of the building. It was a beautiful night, full of stars. Frogs were quaking somewhere and the smell of the city wasn´t that bad anymore. I kept a distance to Modo´s compost heaps (which was easy since they are glowing in the dark), and sat next to the small lake.  
With a splash a frog jumped back into the dark water.  
I settled back onto the lawn and watched the stars.

Suddenly a shadow stood between me and the night sky.  
Startled I jumped up.  
"Who´re you?"

When it didn´t respond I drew the only thing I had with me – my water bottle.  
"Stay back", I hissed, "I´m not afraid to use this!"

With an elegant movement the figure pulled the hood of his cloak back and the handsome face of a young man appeared. He was smiling and waved his hands in a calming gesture.  
"Don´t worry, if I´d wanted to kill you, you´d already be dead."  
"Very…charming." I managed and kept the bottle in a firm grip.  
"Actually", the man cheerfully continued, "I could without much effort think of 12 different ways to kill you right now."  
"Think again", I suggested growling, " ´cause any of them would result in the extinction of your branch of the family tree!"

His smile faded, but only for a moment. Then it broadened even more.  
"Relax. As I said, I´m not here to kill you. My name´s Chidder. Lord Downey wants a word with you and thus sent me here."  
"How do I know that´s true?"  
He searched his pockets, produced a piece of paper from one and held it out.  
"No, I don´t think so." I smiled grimly, "put it on the ground and step back."

Raising an eyebrow he did as he was told.  
Never leaving the Assassin out of my sight I took a small handkerchief from my pocket and picked the note up.  
It said:

To Miss Kristine Steyn. On the condition that you still wish to enroll at the Assassins´ Guild´s school I´d be pleased if you accepted this invitation for a detailed discussion of the matter. Lord Downey, Headmaster.

When I looked up again Chidder had disappeared.

"Very funny", I grunted.  
"If you´re ready..." a voice next to my right ear said and I nearly jumped out of my skin.

Whirling around I found Chidder had – very gentlemen-like - already extended an arm. I threw another glance at the paper, one at the Assassin and shrugged. He had a point: If he´d want me dead, I´d already had my final celebrity meeting. So I took his arm and allowed him to lead me through the dark city in the direction of Filigree Street.

-----ooooo-----

Chidder looked around a little irritated.  
"This way?" I asked and pointed to the door with the familiar sign.  
"Um…yes, sure. It´s just…I never took the stairs before…"

He knocked at the door of the headmaster´s office.  
"Come."  
The office was more crowded this time. Ten darkly dressed people were standing around stiffly. I looked around and felt like entering a bat cave.

"Ah, Miss Stein." Lord Downey smiled and came around his desk, "Mr. Chidder found you. Good, good…" he rubbed his hands.  
"Well, yes, Lord Downey", I said puzzled, "but why did you want to see me?"  
"I have good news for you. Your request has been discussed and the Guild is willing to allow you to take part in a new educational program."

I tried to figure out the meaning of the sentence.  
"You mean I can enroll?"

The lady I´d met when leaving the headmaster´s office earlier that day was playing with her jewelry.  
"Not as a regular student. It will be an experiment. We´d like to find out if a … I mean someone your age…is still capable of passing the final."  
"Of course", a fat man added beaming, "there´s no guarantee that you will survive."  
"You will have to work very hard." another man said cold, "And not only when it comes to your…favourite subjects. Everything is important!"

The fat Assassin patted the other one on his shoulder.  
"Now now, Mericet, you wouldn´t want to scare the young lady, before she even had her first lesson with you?"

Lord Downey turned to me.  
"The education will consist of most of the usual subjects. You will be taught by postgraduates mainly, but the teachers will see that they fulfill the assignment satisfyingly. If you survive the final, you will be a fully certified Assassin. Do you accept?"

I stared into the expectant faces of the elegant dressed teachers and thought about what hadn´t been mentioned yet.  
"It´s an experiment."  
"Very much so."  
"What do I have to pay for it, then?"

They exchanged careful glances. Obviously the discussion about this particular topic hadn´t ended in agreement.

Finally Lord Downey leaned against his desk and folded his arms.  
"Since this has never been done before, we offer you a free scholarship." he announced slowly and turned to fish a list from his desk.  
"Lady T'Malia will see that you get everything you need to begin your studies." he handed me the list. "There is an unused attic room in the Black Widow House. I suggest you move in as soon as you learned how to enter it through the window."

His gaze fell on Chidder, who was still standing behind me, near the door.  
"Mr. Chidder is going to be your main advisor. He will show you around and begin with explaining the basic rules, such as good manners, suitable clothing and – most important - the Rules of Assassination."

I took the list, glanced at the smirking Chidder and nodded.  
"Thank you, Lord Downey."  
"My pleasure, Miss Stein."

Only hours later I was running over the roofs of Ankh-Morpork in a black pantsuit, on my first tour through the neighbourhood of the Guild House.

-----ooooo-----

"Use your hands and feet! Like this!"  
Shivering in the cold I held on to the stone in front of my face and watched as Chidder climbed swiftly to the top of the gong tower and back to me.   
Reaching for the next stone I slowly followed him, desperately trying not to look down. The ground seemed to be so much lower than usual.

"Good gods, it´s barely rated 1.8. Get a grip and come up, girl!"

I hated it when he addressed me like this. After all he was just 2 months older than me. The anger gave me strenghts and I lifted myself up to the dome on top, panting heavily as I kneeled next to the young Assassin.

He sighed dramatically.  
"If you don´t learn how to climb properly, you´ll end up dead for sure."

He drew a dagger and I turned to face him.  
"Don´t you dare start a fight here! I promise you, I´ll use my upcoming panic to push you down!"  
Smirking he handed me the dagger.  
"Every student carves their initials in the dome. It´s a tradition. You just have to find some space."  
I found it somewhere between Teppic´s and Arthur Ludorum´s carvings and spent nearly 10 minutes adding the two letters.

"Fine." Chidder said and blew his hands to keep them warm, "You can go back now. "Strategy and Poison Theory" starts in 15 minutes. You better hurry: Mr. Mericet can get very…unpleasant, when his students are late."

With these words he disappeared from the small platform and crawled back to the ground like a spider.

Sighing I followed him, moving very slowly and carefully. Usually I don´t mind heights and you certainly have a beautiful view from the gong tower, but…well, it´s awfully high and Assassins never use a security net. Of course I always carried my waterbottle with me, just in case I´d have to jump out of this dimension in a hurry, but still: Can you really think fast enough when the ground approaches you at high speed?

Of course I was late for the lesson.

Mericet let me recite half the book of "Poisonious Herbs of Lancre", before he began a lecture about famous strategist of the Disc. Sometimes it could be rather dull, but – as every student in every dimension – I knew how to fake interest. Besides, he would eat me alive if I didn´t pay attention, so I did most of the time.

Fat and good-natured Grunworth Nivor was next. We got along quite well, he had some funny anecdotes about former clients and the different and often inventive ways they had been inhumed. He told me while I was working at the exercise.  
With me being his only student he was also able to move at a faster pace as he normally could with a whole class.  
He handed me a couple of sticks, stones and a wire. With these items I had to build a trap. Well, the model of a trap, of course.

That was one of my favourite tasks, I really loved it. Some people relax when sticking maggots or worms on little hooks and wait all day for a fish to gulp the bait, but I could spend hours thinking up new traps, building them in my mind, sketching them on a piece of paper and actually putting them together.

I got absorbed in this and the lesson always seemed to be shorter than the others.

There were a few subjects I didn´t like so much (same as in my home dimension), but what I really hated was "music". Every Assassin had to learn at least two musical instruments and I´m just totally lost when it comes to musical notes or staying in tune. I can´t even hum a single note properly.

Kompt de Yoyo was known to look forward to our private lessons pretty much the same way I did: With obvious pain to the back of the spine.

It became a running gag among the students: When both of us were walking around as if having toothache, they always grinned and made remarks about late musicians who – if they ever happened to walk around enjoying their afterlife and by sheer accident heard my performance – would turn around at once and go back to their graves.  
They even said Kompt de Yoyo would gladly follow them.

The two of us were practically torturing each other.

After 3 months he had a talk with Lord Downey, who summoned me to his office and informed me that he´d removed music from my schedule. Visibly relieved the Kompt and I had left the headmaster at this day. I shared the news (and a few drinks) with some girls from the Black Widow House and am quite sure the Kompt had his own private celebration.

Anyway, apart from this and my problems with climbing I had a great time at the Guild school and thanks to the private lessons I caught up with the other first year students pretty quick.

Then came the day when I fell off the tower of the Patrician´s palace.

-----ooooo-----

It had been a good morning.

Chidder pulled the knives out of the dartboard and handed them back, smiling.  
"Not too bad. Try it with more force now. Imagine a very heavy client – you´d have the knife cutting through several layers of fat."  
I raised my hand slowly, concentrated and let the knife fly. It hit the middle of the board and stuck. Chidder nodded approvingly.  
"Better. Okay, I think we can stop now and do some more climbing practice."

Groaning I took the knives and hid them under my cloak.  
"Take the crossbow as well", my advisor added merciless, "I want you to practice with the weight on your shoulder."

We left Guild property the traditional way: Over the wall.  
Running over the rooftops of Ankh-Morpork was quite an experience – it was practically a city of its own, just…well, several stories above.  
On the way to the palace Chidder pointed to signs we or members of other Guilds had fixed on chimneys and wooden bridges that connected the roofs.  
I recited as quickly as possible.  
"Thiefsign for "Immunity from burglary" for 3 months. Our sign for "Passage to dull street under construction", Thieves´ for "friendly dog in the house", Thieves´ for "robbed last Friday",…"

Suddenly we stood on top of a building near our destination. It smelled of horses, hay and…well, hay, that had already been eaten by horses.

Chidder kneeled down and looked around. Following his gaze I found it was just a usual morning in the stables of the Patrician. Maybe a bit quieter than usual.  
"Shoot an arrow up to the wooden plank on top of the tower." my avisor told me.  
I chose a size 4, aimed and fired. The arrow hit the target in the upper left corner, but it was still the right plank.  
"Fine. Now get it."

I shouldered the crossbow, jumped onto another roof until I reached the foot of the tower. Glancing at its smooth surface I desperately hoped I wouldn´t run out of knives on my way up.

Of course I did, after about 3/4 of the way.

-----ooooo-----

Near a window I rested and looked down, searching for Chidder. I couldn´t see him, but this meant nothing – as a full trained Assassin he knew how to hide properly.  
A few metres above me the arrow hang motionless. With the help of two or three others, firmly tied together, I could have reached it from where I was.  
But that would have been cheating.

So I rose again and made my way to the top, slowly and carefully.

On my way down with the arrow deeply buried in the depths of my cloak, I collected my knives again, one after the other. All of a sudden a window was opened right next to my head and the frame hit me on the shoulder.

I lost my grip and fell instantly.

-----ooooo-----

"Shitshitshitshitshit..."

I thrust my arms out and felt my fingertips gliding over the smooth stone of the tower, desperately searching for a stone or whatever could support me at the very moment. Suddenly I got hold of a window sill, hang there for a second, fumbling for my waterbottle, then the old wood cracked and I was falling again.

The scene repeated itself twice, before I reached the ground. It was a tough landing.  
Pain shot through my left arm and my hands felt as if I´d touched a hot stove.  
But at least I was still alive.

Suddenly Chidder kneeled at my side, a bit paler than usual.  
"Good gods, Chris, are you okay?"  
People could really think of a better line in these situations.

"I´m not dead, if it´s that what you mean." I croaked and sat up. My arm hung useless from my shoulder. At a very unhealthy looking angle.  
"We´ve got to get you back to the Guild. The san…"  
"No." I interrupted quickly, glancing around the empty backyard I had landed in, "just help me to this shed there, will you?"  
He threw me a doubtful look, but took my good arm and steered me to a tiny shed behind the stables. No one was in sight.  
There were buckets and brushes and pitchforks and dozens of other tools you need in a stable. I slid on the ground and leaned against the wall.  
My left arm hurt like hell.

But I´d be damned if I let one of the so-called "healers" of this dimension touch it. Besides, I couldn´t afford losing too much time being sick. In just a few weeks were first years´ finals and I´d planned to take part.

"Please go back and tell Lady T´Malia I won´t be there in time for "Political Expediency". But I try to return at dinner time." I said and thought for a moment, "Or rather tomorrow."

Chidder shook his head in disbelief.  
"What are you talking about? I won´t leave you here. I get a cart from the stables and bring you back."  
I rolled my eyes.  
"That wasn´t exactly a request. Just go back and leave it to me, okay? I will follow you as soon as I can!"  
"Why? What are you doing?"  
"Visiting some friends. Now please…go! And close the door."  
Hesitatingly he stepped outside, then turned and looked back.  
"But…"  
"Please, Chidder."

With a doubtful expression he closed the door. Quickly I reached for the bottle and opened it. The portal opened and I was soaked into it, hoping that I´d arrive where I wanted, but even more than that - also when I wanted.

-----ooooo-----

The next landing wasn´t much better than the first. I nearly lost conciousness.  
But it had worked, this was Babylon 5 alright.  
DownBelow, to be exact.  
Kind of the Shades of this station.  
And as its counterpart in the other dimension it had its own sharks gliding through the corridors, searching for easy prey.The first guy trying to rob the helpless girl got a knife between the ribs, the second one a kick into a most sensitive area.  
I may not be a certified Assassin yet, but I know how to handle a couple of amateur street robbers, in any dimension.  
Although a crossbow is a weapon you can´t operate well on a space station, it impressed the other two men enough to leave the area quickly.

I got up slowly, searching the shadows for other adventurous people and started walking in the direction of the core shuttle that would bring me to MedLab.

-----ooooo-----

I got some odd looks on the way.

Well, even here I wasn´t something you saw everyday: A girl running around with an obviously broken arm, dressed all in black, old-fashioned clothes and carrying a wooden crossbow.

Dr. Franklin´s jaw dropped when I stepped into the infirmary, but his healer instinct kicked in instantly and without asking unnecessary questions he steered me to a bed and inspected the damage.

I stopped the hand with the syringe.  
"Nothing too strong, I don´t want to pass out."  
"It´s just a local anesthetic. You don´t want to feel anything when I push the joint back into the socket, do you?"  
I released his hand.  
"Rather not."

With a crack the joint went back where it belonged and after a few seconds of laser theraphy (or whatever it was that closed the wounds at my fingers) he bandaged my arm and stepped back.

"Don´t use it within the next two weeks."  
"Two weeks?! Can´t you just…give me another shot or so? I need it in a few days."

Dr. Franklin waved his hands.  
"What do you think I am? A mechanic? The arm needs rest. I don´t want you to use it within the next two weeks."  
He leaned forward.  
"Did I make myself clear?"  
I looked into the stern face and gulped.  
"Perfectly clear."  
"Good!"

I watched him marching out of the room and caught a glimpse of someone in a security uniform addressing him. They talked for a few moments, then the man turned and stepped into the room.  
"Michael." I grinned and hopped from the bed.  
He caught my arm (the good one) when dizziness darkened my soroundings.  
"Easy. One broken arm is enough, don´t you think?"  
I shook my head to clear it.  
"Yeah, I guess it is. How long have I been…away?"  
He leaned next to me against the bed.  
"Nearly two weeks now. We were already worried."  
"Only two weeks?"

I had spent 9 months on the Disc already, without a break for vacation or anything due to the fact that I didn´t know when (that is: at which point in DW-"history") I´d be back next time. But maybe I always landed after the point of my first arrival. Which was logical in a strange way. Not that I could explain it, it just felt right somehow.

"Yep. The commander and Susan are on the way and we want to hear everything. Where on earth did you get this?" he reached for the crossbow and examined it carefully.

"We use them at school." I said cheerfully and waved Commander Sinclair and Susan Ivanova, who where just entering the infirmary.

-----ooooo-----

I gave them a short summary of the events after I´d left the station last time.

Sinclair raised an eyebrow.  
"Assassins´ School?"

"They provide the best education on the whole Disc. And I got a free scholarship."

Susan looked quite disapprovingly either.  
"A school for killers?"

This would take more time than I had.

I rubbed my eyes.  
"Look, I can´t explain everything right now, I have to go back. First years´finals start soon and I still need preparation. Hogswatch holidays are just a few weeks later, then I´ll return and tell you all about the Discworld-dimension, okay?"

They exchanged glances.  
"Hogswatch?"  
"Disworld?"

"I will explain everything, I promise. Just not now."

-----ooooo-----

Another glass of water brought me back to Ankh-Morpork.

Morning light was already sweaping over the roofs when I finally arrived in Filigree Street.  
I knocked at Chidder´s window and backed away to avoid getting killed by the poisoned dart that shot out of a crack in the glass. The boy was paranoid, like every Assassin.

You could say paranoia comes with the job.

Only seconds after the dart the owner of the room swang out and stopped right in front of me, sticking to the wall like a fly.  
"Where have you been? When I came back to get you…"  
"Now I´m here. And everything´s fine, isn´t it?" I smiled.  
He grabbed my shoulder and pulled me onto the roof.  
"Don´t…and I mean don´t…ever do this again to me, understand? I turned the whole area upside down to find you."  
I was surprised and also a bit touched.  
"Hell, Chidder, I didn´t know you…"  
"Lord Downey told me to look after you, so that´s what I did. Tried to do. It´s not like I asked for it, okay?"  
I hid a smile.  
This guy was easier to read than he probably thought.  
"Okay, I understand. Sorry for this, really."  
I lifted the bandaged arm a little.  
"I just let someone put this on. He said it would be good as new in two weeks."  
That wasn´t exactly what Dr. Franklin had said, but close enough.

Chidder frowned.  
"Your friend´s a wizard? Normally these things take more than a month."  
"Sort of. He´s very good at his job, so expect me to take part in the finals."

The young man shook his head, then waved his hand in the direction of the classrooms.  
"First you´ll have to catch up with "Political Expediency". Lady T´Malia said she was still waiting for an essay about the Ankh-Morporkian Royal Family up to "Lorenzo The Kind". And Mericet gave me a list of complex poison mixes for you to learn by heart until next week. You see…" he shrugged, "There´s still plenty to do for the finals, even if you can´t use your arm right now. So we better get moving, shall we?"

-----ooooo-----

"You´re lucky, you know…"  
"What do you mean?"

Jill and I were sitting in the Black Widow common room. She was a polite 14 year old sewing addict. Even now she was working on her black dress, inserting an invisible pocket into the wrist sections, where she planned to hide small pieces of equipment. Poisoned needles or a wire for picking locks.

I was sweating over a map of the Ankh-Morpork sewers. One of the tasks when attending first year finals was crossing them from one side to the other without getting lost and without letting the second years catch you in the process. My sense of direction wasn´t so bad, but this labyrinth changed its shape every once in a while and it was important to keep up-to-date.

"I mean", Jill continued, while steering the needle over the cloth, "that you are most fortunate to have Chidder as advisor."

"That´s true", I replied, not really knowing what made her say that, "he may not be very patient most of the time, but he´s good at explaining things. When Mericet gave me the book about the quotes of this famous strategist – what´s his name…"

Jill rolled her eyes.  
"That´s not what I meant. Good grief, Chris, don´t you ever think of anything else apart from school?"  
"Not recently." I told her, then something dawned at the corner of my mind and I stared at the other girl, "You´re not implying that Chidder and I…"

"Why not? He´s only two months older than you, very good-looking and has a decent job. Besides, I heard from Stuart Frey – you know, the funny brown-haired third year, who nearly got killed in the Shades last month – that Chidder told Arthur Ludorum that the two of you had a great time down in the sewers."  
"In the sewers." I repeated.  
She beamed at me.  
"Yes! Isn´t this exciting?"  
"He told Arthur we had a great time in the sewers?"  
"That´s what Stuart heard. Isn´t it romantic?"

I shook my head to get the image of two lovebirds walking hand-in-hand through the stinking city sewers out of my head.

"We were training for the finals." I said slowly, "He attacked me constantly. I was barely alive when we got out again. And not even half a dozen showers get the smell out of your skin when you spend the day down there. What exactly can be romantic about the sewers?!"

She gave me a knowing smile.  
"The two of you. Alone. In the darkness." she sighed, "I´ve read books about these situations."  
"About people falling in love in sewers?"  
"No, silly, about how to find the man of your dreams – and marry him."

I snored.  
"Don´t read everything you believe."

She reached over to the chair next to her and handed me a heavy leather book.  
The cover said:  
"How to find the man of your dreems and merry him"  
"Now look at this", I grinned, "even if there aren´t too many difficult words one could possibly spell wrong, they always seem to find some anyway."

Jill ignored the remark.  
"It says you should spend time together, share each others interests and shallen…tshellen…dschallenge each other."  
She smiled triumphantly, "You and Chidder are on the right path to the perfect marriage. You should only wear dresses every now and then, Chris, men like girls who dress…properly. I´m sure Lady T´Malia told you something like that either, didn´t she?"

"I´m happy with my pantsuit!" I growled, "And please stop pairing us off, will you? I´m here to become an Assassin, not a bride."

The girl made a face.  
"You should tell Sarah Rubis. And Betty Drowner. They would love to lay a hand on your handsome advisor. In fact, their faces always turn green when the two of you walk by together."

I considered this.  
"You mean dark-haired third year Sarah Rubis who accidentially dropped her crossbow when I passed the exercise area the other day? Only two inches closer and the arrow would have hit me in the neck."

Jill nodded.  
"This Sarah. She´s quite good with the bow, I wonder why she missed."  
Another face formed in my mind.  
"And green-eyed, long-legged Betty Drowner who tried to poison my food with crocus seeds last Octeday?"  
"Yes. The one who´s afraid of rats."

I rubbed my eyes and groaned.  
"I´d never have guessed! I thought they were only trying to kill me…well, you know, to test their skills. That it was because of a guy…"  
Grimly I looked at my map, then slowly folded the paper.  
"They should be ashamed! You don´t kill for personal reasons – you kill for money! Really! Every first year knows that!"

Jill cut the rest of string and put her sewing kit back into the wooden box.  
"Tell them. Anyway, do you have the afternoon off? Sally and Karen want to go to Hogswatch market, they already got headmaster´s permission. You want to come with us?"

Having grown-up-privileges at school came in handy every now and then. In my spare time I could come and go as I pleased. Underaged students had to get a permission slip first.

I glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room.  
"Sure, why not?"

-----ooooo-----

Snow was beginning to fall, when we arrived at the market. Ankh-Morpork looks really beautiful when covered. The more snow the better.

As Assassins in training we stayed in the background, hands deep in our pockets, and even stopped from time to time to lean against things and yawn in a knowing manner. They are very strict about these procedures at school, you have to act in certain ways when you´re trained by a Guild.

This didn´t keep us from buying a candied apple each and do some chri… hogswatch shopping, though.

"I still need a present for my little brother", Sally exclaimed desperately, "you think he´d like this?" and she waved a stuffed animal that could have been a rabbit (but only with much imagination, while looking in the other direction).  
"I give it to you for only 20 cents and I cut me own throat!"  
"Hi Dibbler," I greeted the trader, "how´re you doing?"  
"Very well," CMOT smiled, when Sally handed him the money and stuffed the animal under her cloak, "Hogswatch is good for business. Everyone wants something fluffy to give to their beloved. Do you still need presents, young lady? Maybe for someone special? I can make you a good price."

I ignored the sniggering behind me.  
"No, thank you."  
"Look, I have something new here", he added quickly and searched the pile of ugly toys. Finally he found what he was looking for and triumphantly waved it in front of our faces.  
"What´s this?" Jill asked curiously.

"This, young lady, is a "Man-that-smokes-when-you-put-a-glowing-flake-in". Its got a hole where the mouth is, see? You light one of these flavoured little cylinders and put them in the belly. Then the smoke comes out of its mouth and fills the room with Hogswatch feeling."

Karen laughed.  
"It even has a pipe. How cute. It would look like it was smoking the pipe."

I tapped against the figure.  
"Um…Dibbler? It´s made of straw, isn´t it?"  
"Certainly! I buy it from the best stables in Ankh-Morpork. I only use the best material for my customers."

I gave the figure back.  
"So it most likely will catch fire in the process and burn down the house if you´re not careful."

Dibbler beamed.  
"Hogswatch can be full of surprises. And this little toy here comes with a voucher for 30% reduction on nearly new furniture. A real bargain."

I rolled my eyes.  
"Right you are. C´mon girls, it´s getting cold - let´s go back."

We got some sweets from a cart on the way, passed the line of children waiting to hop on a fake Hogfather´s lap, and turned around a few corners, slowly moving away from the busy market.

The night was cold and dark and the streets empty.  
Everything was quiet.

Suddenly there was a wailing noise nearby.

We exchanged glances.  
"It came from there." Karen said and pointed into a dark alley leading to the Shades.  
Not a safe place to be, not even as an Assassins´ apprentice.  
"We´re four", Jill said firmly, "we shouldn´t get any problems."  
"Famous last words", I remarked, but began walking into the alley. The wailing became a soft yelping.

It came from under the small stone steps leading to the backdoor of an old house.  
Karen and Sally watched our backs with drawn daggers, while Jill and I bent over to examine the source of the noise.  
With a shriek Jill reached out and pulled a dirty…thing out of the muddy water next to the steps.  
"What the…" I began, but then the creature turned its head and I could see that it was a swamp dragon, one of many that were running around in the city. It had an ugly cut in the right wing and its stomach grumbled threateningly.

I took a step back.  
"Jill, put it down."  
"But…"  
"You want to be blown up? Put it down!"

But before she could drop the dragon, it coughed. A small flame shoot out of its muzzle and missed my face just by a few inches. It smelled like something you only find in dark, damp cellars.  
"It´s okay now, I think", Jill announced and patted the dragon on the back, "what are we doing with it?"  
"What do you mean what are we doing with it?"  
"We´ve got to bandage the wound. And the poor thing looks like it hasn´t eaten in weeks."  
The girls reached out and carefully patted the lizard-like skin of the creature.

"We can bring it to the Sunshine Sanctuary.", Karen suggested.  
Sally frowned.  
"I heard they closed two weeks ago, when the Ankh brought so much mud onto the grounds that the cages were too wet to keep the dragons there. I think I read it in the "Times"."  
Karen nodded.  
"It´s true. The Sanctuary was transferred to the Ramkin House. They´ll move back when the grounds are dry again. Well, it´s not exactly on the way, but Lady Ramkin would certainly know what to do." She looked around with sudden doubt, "That is if she´s still in. It´s pretty late already."

"We´ll be late", Sally protested, "And it´s Mericet´s shift. He will punish us."  
Jill shrugged and shifted the weight on her arms. The dragon had obviously accepted her and leaned its head against her shoulder.  
"I don´t care. I´ll go to Lady Ramkin. Who´s coming?"  
The other girls shifted uneasily. Mericet is not one you want to make angry.  
"Okay, okay", I finally sighed, "Karen and Sally can go back and the two of us drop the dragon at the shelter."  
Relieved the girls left after stroking the dragon one last time and Jill and I climbed up onto the rooftops.

"You know the way?" she asked me with a wink.  
"After all these hours stalking people to their houses in Ankh? You bet I do."

-----ooooo-----

The huge house lay quiet and peacefully.  
It was already past midnight.

"You sure we should wake them up?" I asked doubtfully, but Jill had already pulled the bell string. After a few minutes she tried again.

"There must be someone." she exclaimed, while I was rubbing life back into my legs. These cloaks don´t help much when you´re running around in the snow for a long time.

"Maybe they are on a party.", I said, then – after thinking about this remark for a moment – added, "Well, maybe Lady Sybil is on a party and Commander Vimes is on duty."

Jill´s teeth began to clack.  
"We have to take him home."  
"What?! Have you lost your mind?!"

She patted the sleeping dragon.  
"What else could we do?"  
"Get a piece of string and tie it against the gate."  
"That´s cruel! It´s cold and we don´t know when Lady Ramkin will be back!"

I waved my hands.  
"It will survive! We won´t when Mericet catches us in school with a bloody dragon."

She looked at me with pleading eyes.  
"Pleeeease, Chris, only for the night. Tomorrow morning I´ll bring him back here myself. We can´t just leave him here, all alone."  
"How do you plan to smuggle him in?"  
Her foot shuffled circles into the snow.  
"I thought you could keep him in your room and…"

"No way!"

"Oh, come on. I´ll get in first and distract Mericet. He will punish me for being late and you can slip into your room in the meantime. I just can´t bring a dragon in the dormitory."  
I hated to admit it, but she was right. This was the only possible way. I stared at the little dragon burying his muzzle deep in Jill´s cloak.  
"If we get caughed…" I began.

"We won´t!" she assurred me beaming and together we turned and made our way back over the slippery roofs, heading for Filigree Street.

-----ooooo-----

We peered over the wall leading to Guild property.

No one in sight.

I nodded and Jill handed me the still sleeping dragon. It was surprisingly heavy, but fortunately didn´t make a sound. To be on the safe side I wrapped a piece of wire around its muzzle. With a wink the girl moved over the wall and into the darkness. I waited a few moments, then I heard an icy voice.

"Ah, Miss Cushion. Did you have a nice evening in town?"

Jill said something I didn´t understand and only seconds later I was gliding silently down the outer stone wall, darted towards Black Widow House and up the wall to my room.

I nearly made it.

Out of the dark a hand suddenly grabbed me at the shoulder, another one was pressed firmly over my mouth and – with the motionless swamp dragon still in my arms – I was pulled inside the building.

-----ooooo-----

The first thing I thought was: "It´s over. You´ll be expelled."  
The second was: "Strange. I know this smell."

A candle was enlighted and Chidder grinned broadly when he saw my face.  
"Shocked you a little, didn´t I?"

I slapped his shoulder.  
"Don´t do this ever again! I nearly got a heart attack!"

Suddenly the dragon moved and Chidder´s eyes widened.  
"You brought a dragon here?! Are you crazy?!"  
"It´s not mine" I defended myself, "I just keep it in my room for the night. We found it in town and there was no one at the Ramkin House to take care of it."

He frowned.  
"That was Jill´s idea, wasn´t it?"  
"Quite obvious, I guess."  
"After the incident with the crocodile? Pretty obvious indeed. Not many students can tell their friends the headmaster had to add new rules to the existent ones, just because of them."   
"Will you…you know…inform Mericet?"

He looked surprised.  
"Of course not. But the dragon has to disappear first thing in the morning."

With these words he walked nearer and patted the tied muzzle of the animal which looked around like it understood everything that was spoken.

The two of us were standing close, very close. I thought of Jill´s remark about the sewers and wondered what she´d say about this situation.  
Finally I cleared my throat.  
"Um…I better go."  
Chidder looked up.  
"Eh…yes, it´s late…"  
"See you tomorrow, then."  
"Yes, have…eh…have a good night."  
"You too."

After this profound dialog I climbed over the window sill and carefully a few metres higher, over another wall and into my room.

-----ooooo-----

I was woken by a wailing noise.  
"Aww…Bronx, leave me alone…"

The noise didn´t stop and was accompanied by a smell of something burning. Suddenly the memory from last night hit me. I sat up with a start.  
The wooden box I´d put the dragon in had a smoking hole. Huge eyes looked at me uncomfortably. I sighed and rolled out of bed.

The attic I´m living in during my apprenticeship is a small room with a bed, a cupboard for clothes (you can also use it as a table) and the compulsory huge mirror. There´s hardly space to turn around.

But it´s a comfy little room and I don´t have to share it, which makes it even more attractive.

Just when I had been trying to figure out where to put my guest Chidder had knocked softly on the window and handed me a box, then vanished silently. Not even certified Assassins want to bump into Mericet at nightshift.

At least the dragon had slept up to now and only destroyed his box so far. Soon he would burn down Lady Sybil´s wigs with his comrades.  
I opened a cupboard drawer and searched for the cookies I stored in it.  
After a quick breakfast (the dragon ate the box) I heard knocking at my window.

It was Jill.

I let her in with a questioning glance.  
"Well?"  
"An essay about animal poisons. It could be worse."  
"Yes, you´re right…wait a minute…" I opened another drawer and produced a notebook. Jill stared blankly.  
"What´s this?"  
"An essay about animal poisons", I grinned and threw it in her direction, "I had to write the same three months ago for being late. Change it a bit and you save nearly two days of searching the library."  
"Gee, thanks. Now what about the dragon?"

"He had his breakfast. Let´s get him to Lady Ramkin."

-----ooooo-----

Smuggling the animal out again was even easier than bringing it in.  
Relieved I dropped the bundle of "dirty clothes" down in the side alley and peeked inside.  
A scaly face turned and intelligent eyes watched me silently. A sock was dangling from the green muzzle.  
"Just stay calm and you´ll sleep in a nice warm shed among other dragons tonight, okay?"

Jill grinned.  
"Don´t tell me you´re beginning to like him."

I made a face.  
"Of course not. Bloody little beast."  
Quickly I closed the sack again and shouldered it.  
"The sooner we get him to Lady Sybil the better. I can´t afford to lose any more clothes."

Lady Ramkin answered the door herself and stared at us in surprise.  
Jill had just opened her mouth to explain our presence, when her ladyship suddenly shrieked, reached out and pulled us inside the house.  
"At last! I´m so glad you made it, girls, I was already worried. Did Mrs. Board tell you what to do? It´s not difficult, you´ll see."  
She pushed us forward through the hallway and out the backdoor in the directions of the cages containing dragons of all shapes.  
"There are the shovels, the compost heap is right around the corner, when…"  
"Lady Sybil? We´re not…"

"Ooooh, look at this one!" Jill cried out and kneeled next to the nearest cage. A reddish dragon hopped a few metres away from us and gave her a suspicious glance.  
I rolled my eyes.  
"Jill, please, would you remember why we´re here?" Turning to the dragon breeder I continued, "I don´t know who you think we are, but my name is Christine Stein and this is Jill Cushion. We found a dragon…" I dropped the sack carefully and opened it, "…near the market last night. It´s hurt…"

The change was remarkable. Lady Ramkin bend over with a ticking sound and lifted the animal out.  
"You tried to bandage it?" she asked while examining the scratch.  
"Yes, but it didn´t work. He ripped it off after a while."  
"Ah, you need a funnel!" she turned to Jill, "Quick, get me one of the brown things and the small bottle out of the shed over there, will you?"

The girl obeyed and came back with some kind of tent. It was held by a wooden structure and a brownish fabric was wrapped around it. Before I could say a word her ladyship stuck the dragon´s head into the opening and fastened the leather belt around its neck.  
Then she put some of the oily stuff from the bottle on the wound and bandaged it again.  
"This time he won´t be able to rip it off. So are you taking him home with you? He seems to have been tamed and is quite well mannered."  
"We can´t." I said hastily, "we´re students at the Assassin´s Guild."  
"Yes," Jill added moodily, "we aren´t even allowed to keep lizards for pets."

Lady Sybil sighed.  
"What a shame. A dragon can be a wonderful companion. Every kid should have one." she thought for a moment, "At least every kid old enough to use a fire extinguisher. Teaches them responsibility, you know."

I repressed a comment, but couldn´t help hearing the song "Burning down the house" loud and clear in my mind.  
Suddenly a man in a guards´ uniform walked into the garden. His face darkened when he saw us.  
"What do you think you´re doing here?" he growled, "Didn´t you learn the lesson last time? Do you have any idea what yellow paint costs?!"  
It took me a moment to remember what Pterry had written about the relationship between Vimes and Assassins in general.  
"Oh, please, dear, don´t be like that. The girls just came by to bring this poor little creature." Lady Sybil said and lifted the dragon a little which indeed looked pitiful with the brown fabric around its head.

Vimes grunted something and we mumbled a polite phrase. Then the Commander grabbed a brown bag from a nearby shelf and walked back in the hallway of the large mansion.

When he was gone, Lady Sybil gave us a big smile.  
"He´s been a bit depressed lately, I´m sure he didn´t mean it. So girl…" (that was addressed to Jill), "you already had some experience with lizards?"

I grinned.  
"Lizards? That was a bloody crocodile! It nearly ate our "Master for light weaponry and advanced fistfight"."  
Jill blushed.  
"I couldn´t possibly know he would be checking the old cellar washrooms since they aren´t in use anymore."

Lady Sybil sighed in sympathy.  
"People just don´t seem to understand these animals. Did you know that crocodiles and dragons have the same ancestors?"  
"Really?"  
"Well, sure. Come on, I can show you around. Mrs. Board wanted to send me two girls for helping with cage cleaning and so on, but they didn´t show up yet. After the Sanctuary-animals had been brought here, there was even more to do than usual. We need new cages and people who help getting the mud out of the old premises - and of course most of the time we still have the occupied cages to clean...maybe you want the job?"  
Jill´s eyes were shining.  
"Sure!" She turned to me.  
"We´ll be working with dragons! Isn´t this great?"

I gave her an odd look.  
"Um…yeah. Sure, nothing beats shifting dragon droppings, but I´m afraid you´ll have to do it alone. Studies don´t leave me much time at the moment."  
They hardly heard, but were suddenly deeply absorbed in a conversation about skin diseases and eating habits of scaly creatures.  
I mumbled another polite phrase and turned to go.

In the hallway I met Commander Vimes again.  
"You are the new kid at the Guild, aren´t you?" he asked, staring grimly at me, "The adult student. Are you going to join the dragon club?"

I shook my head.  
"I don´t think so. But I´m sure you´ll see Jill regularly from now on…eh, I gotta go. It was a pleasure meeting you, Commander."

I felt his gaze in my back when I left the house.

-----ooooo-----

This night I heard an explosion not too far away.

"Sounds like the Alchemists´ Guild needs a new lab – again." I thought, rolled around in my bed and went back to sleep. You get used to everything after a while.

Turned out it wasn´t the Alchemists´ Guild after all.

"Have you heard?" Karen asked me at breakfast, "Something blew up in the Shades last night. A couple of guys died."

I took a roll, cheese and moved on to our table. The others were already testing their food for poison. Stripes of yellow paper turned blue, one of Sally´s grey. She gave the boiled egg back and took another one from the buffet table.

Jill chewed on her roll.  
"Who was killed?"  
"No idea. Some guys working there. Thieves maybe."  
I threw the test stripes (all blue) away and started eating.  
"What happened?"

"The Watch is already there. I saw Captain Carrot walking around in the area when I came from my aunt´s house." Karen smiled dreamily and we others grinned. A few months ago he had helped her finding a lost dagger in town (she has improved her throwing abilities since then) and for weeks Captain Carrot had seemed to be the only subject worth talking about. It was getting better, but she still got this expression when someone mentioned the name of a certain member of the City Watch.

"Did he say anything?"  
"Only that it was a dangerous area for young ladies and I´d better go home."

She sighed deeply and we could barely hide our amusement.

A boy with a bell ran through the corridor and quickly we gulped the rest of our breakfast. Fortunately there were enough huge windows in the dining hall, so everybody could get to the classrooms below in time. The younger students went down, I climbed upwards to meet Arthur Ludorum in his study. The next two hours I´d have to improve my "Good manners". Who needs to know which fork to use for which sort of meat? Or which topics to avoid during polite small talk? Assassins, obviously.  
Sometimes I asked myself if a nice short crash-course regarding knife throwing and crossbow shooting wouldn´t have been enough. But no, I´d wanted the whole thing and that´s what I´d got.

Much to my relief the lesson was shorter than usual. Arthur was summoned to the headmaster´s office and left me with a friendly smile.  
"Better than last time. Just try not to drop your cutlery anymore. Doesn´t make a good impression."  
Then he was gone.

With care I put the "tools" (cutlery and crockery for three people) away and hopped out of the window as well.

In my room I found my pouch with a few coins I´d earned in a writing office at the docks. Occassionally they were searching for personnel down there (e.g. when many ships with huge cargo arrived), so I paid a young beggar a few pence when he told me about these occassions. Although I got food and accommodation at the Guild there were a few simple things – like going out with friends – you just needed money for. And I found I´m one of the quickest writers, and make less spelling mistakes than the others. The clerks were obviously satisfied with me.

After Hogswatch market I still had two AM dollars and a few pence. Enough to drink a lemonade at the Mended Drum and have a chat with the Librarian.  
But when I went over the wall I saw something that made me change my mind.

Commander Vimes was just leaving through the front gate.

And he was fuming.

-----ooooo-----

Remembering my training I stayed in the shadows. He walked through streets and alleys, in the direction of the Shades. I followed over the roofs, not too close.  
Eventually I lost him near the remains of an old stone house.  
Quietly I climbed down and examined what was left of the building.

There were parts of a table, some black pieces of glass and much ash. Fortunately the fire hadn´t reached out to the neighbour buildings. I trot into some green stuff sticking to my shoes. Looked like a mix of rubber and vomit. Wandering around curiously I asked myself why the Watch hadn´t shut the area off. Maybe they don´t do anything like this here.

Suddenly I felt someone approaching from behind and whirled around.  
It was Vimes.

"Had a good look around?" he snarled, fished for the stub of a cigar and lighted it.  
I said nothing.

"Poor old Mr. Gumtree. He was a very nice man. Had a flower shop in Hobfast Street. Took him and his poker friends by surprise, this explosion. They were so shocked, they didn´t even get up from their table. They were still sitting here when we came, like puppets with many objects sticking out of their bodies. From the molten money on the table in front of Mr. Gumtree it looked like it had been his lucky day."

He walked nearer.  
"Of course we only knew it was Mr. Gumtree from his wooden leg that had burned away in the fire."

Still I kept a straight face.  
"Why were you at the Guild today? Do you think an Assassin did it?"

He snored again.  
"But this would be against the rules, wouldn´t it? Killing without receipt. And who would want to spend money on killing a couple of old men?"

"We don't use explosives either."  
"Too impersonal, is it?" his voice could have cut glass.  
I nodded.

"But you are using traps, as far as I know. It would be easy to connect a barrel of the powder used for – say – a gonne to the finished construction."

I shook my head.  
"There are rules, especially with traps. Basically you are only allowed to use one to catch a client, only in rare cases for killing him. Using a crossbow for the actual assignment is out of the question, let alone a gonne. And even if someone paid money for this assignment, the Guild would never approve when it came to killing the client´s friends as well. It´s considered…messy and the Guild doesn´t tolerate this kind of stuff anymore. No one had broken this particular rule since Mr. Teatime died."

Vimes leaned against an old iron stove, his eyes glowing.  
"Who are you, Miss Stein?"  
I stared into his face.  
"What do you mean?"  
"No one apart from Lord Downey and very few other people know about the gonne. It had been removed after the…unfortunate incident with Dr. Cruces. How come a student knows about it?"

I could have kicked myself.  
I´d known Vimes was more dangerous than he looked, still I had walked straight into his trap.  
"Seems like all these climbing lessons have softened your brain." a voice in my head hissed furiously.

The Commander raised an eyebrow.  
"Well?"  
I pressed my lips together and said nothing.

"Fine, if you don´t feel like assisting the Watch in this matter…"  
He walked away a few steps, then called someone standing behind the remains of another wall.  
"Angua? Please escort this young lady to the Watch House. She may find the cells there nearly as comfortable as her room at the Guild."

"Wait a minute," I protested when the female member of the City Watch walked in my direction with a raised eyebrow, "you can´t just arrest me. I´ve done nothing wrong."

Turning his back to me Vimes waved one hand.  
"You aren´t under arrest. I just want to ask you a few questions and therefore invite you to join me at my office. But I wouldn´t let you leave again without showing you our beautiful ancient cells."

I glanced at Angua who looked like she expected me to attack her. As if I was so stupid.  
Sighing I walked past her out of the destroyed building and in the direction of the Watch House.

-----ooooo-----

"I can´t just disappear like this. Please inform at least someone at the Guild."  
Vimes laid his feet on his desk, nodded and gave one of his corporals the order to explain my absence to Lord Downey.  
"Tell him we need her assistence in our case. Her duty as a citizen of Ankh-Morpork. Something like this."  
The dwarf grinned and left.

"Now," the Commander began, "did you like our cells?"  
"They´re not as ugly as I tought they would be." I replied truthfully.  
"I´m glad you felt comfortable. If our little conversation won´t satisfy me, you´ll spend the night down there."  
I shook my head in disbelief.  
"What makes you think I have anything to do with this explosion? It´s not like I´d carry a sign saying "I love bombs"."

The Commander snorted.  
"Why did you follow me?"  
"So that´s it? I was just curious. You looked like someone who´d just stepped into something ugly and I still need stalking practice anyway, so…"  
"Are you implying your following me was just a bloody exercise? Why should I believe this?"

I shrugged.  
"Don´t know. Maybe because it´s the truth?"  
"Watch your tounge, Miss!"

Staring him straight in the eyes, I felt anger beginning to boil inside me.  
"Don´t talk to me like I was only ten years old. I don´t know what I have done to you, but you could at least treat me like a grown-up! You think I´m responsible for the explosion? Fine, then throw me in a cell and search for proof. You won´t find any. If you´re just poking around, double-check my answers and start threatening me when you´re sure I did it."

There was a long silence while we kept staring at each other grimly.  
Finally Vimes leaned back in his chair and snorted again, but this time it sounded rather amused.  
"Just an exercise, eh?"

I didn´t know if he really believed it or only pretended to, but nodded.  
"Some girl at school mentioned the explosion this morning and when I saw you…well, I guess, I just got taken away. Looks like I still have much to learn, especially when it comes to stalking policemen."

Suddenly Nobby Nobbs stuck his head through the open door.  
"Commander? Igor has anal…anyl…alany… found out about the sus…subsc…the stuff we took from the ground of the exploded house. He says it´s the remains of a dragon."

"What?!"

I glanced at my shoes. There were still stains of the green substance.  
Vimes had jumped up and shot me an angry look.  
"Now that´s a coincidence, if I ever saw one. The night after you brought my wife a wounded dragon, there is a murder committed with an animal of this species."

A bit confused I reached down and scratched the green stuff from my shoe.  
"You can blow up a whole house with one swamp dragon? Boy, now I know why we are forbidden to keep them at the Guild."  
"Naw Miss", Nobby answered and cleared his throat, "Igor says it must´ve been more´n one. ´t least five is what he said. Didn´t he, Fred?"  
His partner moved into the room and nodded eagerly. "Rather six. Blown up at the same time. Very unusual, he said."

Vimes still stared at me.  
"Where did you say you found the dragon yesterday?"

"Actually it was the night before. We hid him in school for a few hours. We came from Hogswatch market, walked down…mhm, must have been Smart Alley, the narrow street leading to the Shades. Next to a doorstep."

The Commander moved around his desk.  
"That´s only a couple of streets from the place of the explosion! Fred, you and Nobby…no, wait, I´ll do it myself."

He walked past them, reached for his helmet hanging on a nail in the door and pushed it onto his head.  
Then he turned around again.  
"Fred, until we know more about this case this young lady remains in custody. Bring her back in the cell, see that she gets something to eat and a blanket." With a half-smile he added, "It can become quite cold there at night."

With this he marched out the door, leaving a very red Fred Colon and a smirking Nobby behind.   
"Well…´scuse me, Miss…" the fat watchman said nervously and pointed to the door.

I raised and walked past him, grumbling.  
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Detention for being cheeky, isn´t it? If you only knew…"  
"…how quickly I could hop out of your cell, my friend…" I added silently and waited for Nobby to lead me back to the cells.

For one night I would play along.

-----ooooo-----

Vimes had been right – it was indeed getting cold after sunset.

I unfolded the blanket Sergeant Colon had brought me, wrapped myself up and leaned back on the small wooden board that was used as a bed down here. I didn´t have a watch, so I couldn´t tell the time, but it felt like I had already spent days in this smelly and awfully boring place.

The soup had been good, though, and the half chicken either. At least they cared for their prisoners´ stomachs.

I looked around, but of course my soroundings hadn´t changed since last time. It was just a normal cell with a bed (or "board"), between two others of the same kind. Stone floor and –walls, the only window was barred (solid iron, didn´t move an inch), surprisingly clean, but smelled strongly of the drunks that obviously were "guests" quite often. Right now there was no one in the other cells, though, not even an unlicenced thief.

For the 6th time I recited the list of plants used for narcotizing personnel and guard dogs of clients, ran through the city sewers in my mind, avoiding dead ends (not just a phrase!) and spots where traps could be easily positioned, and tried to imagine what Lord Downey probably thought of this unfortunate situation.

Soon it was so dark I couldn´t even see the bars of the neighbour cell. A beam of moonlight shone through the window, but barely reached the ground. I like darkness, I really do, but this was getting depressing.

Suddenly the door on top of the stairs opened and a torch was carried down, drawing flickering shadows at the walls.

I got up, realizing that it was probably already around 3 o´clock in the morning. A watchman checking the cells at that time? Possible.  
But somehow the person didn´t move like a watchman. Usually they don´t move so light footed.  
I backed away in the shadow next to the bed.

The dark figure stopped in front of the first cell and lifted the torch, then moved on.

"You don´t even have a knife! Dammit!" said the voice in my head, somewhat calmly. Carefully reaching down I felt for the stone that had obviously broken off the wall earlier. Not a great weapon, but better than nothing. Maybe I could distract this guy a bit if…well, if I didn´t like what he´d come here for, whatever it was.

The cloaked figure walked over to my cell, lifted the torch again…and whispered my name. I dropped the stone and stepped nearer.  
"Chidder?"  
"No. The Hogfather. What happened? Why did they put you in here?"  
"How did you get in?"  
"There´s a secret passage leading in the other cellar room. As you can smell, I had to cross the sewers."  
"I´m glad you´re here. What did Lord Downey say?"  
"He wasn´t impressed, I can tell you. I had to confess the dragon thing, but don´t worry, I made sure you won´t get any trouble. Now: Why did Vimes lock you up?"

I shook my head.  
"He either thinks I have something to do with the bombing or it´s just his cheerful attitude towards Assassins in general. I wasn´t exactly respectful when he questioned me."  
"I´ll tell Lady T´Malia. She´ll give you a few extra lessons in diplomacy."  
"Very funny. What did Vimes want from Lord Downey?"  
Chidder grunted.  
"He found something in the remains of the building and thought it might have been one of our receipts."  
"Was it?"  
"No, it was just a blank piece of paper. No letterhead, no sign, nothing. Just a perfectly white piece of paper. "  
I rubbed my nose.  
"I have seen the building. Nothing could have gotten out there "perfectly white"."  
My advisor shrugged.  
"It´s not our problem. You think he´ll let you go tomorrow? ´cause otherwise Lord Downey will send a complaint about the City Watch to the Patrician."  
"Well, I´m honored, but I´m sure this won´t be necessary. Even if he still suspects me, he´ll certainly let me go."  
"How can you be so sure?"  
"If he really thinks I helped with killing these guys he´ll try to keep me under surveillance to catch the people who pulled the strings."

Chidder chuckled.  
"Ah. More practice for the finals."  
"If I´m lucky. Anyway, why would the killer leave a blank piece of paper at the crime scene?"  
"Crime scene? You´ve been at the Watch House for too long. You´re already talking like a watchman. Or –woman, rather."  
I grinned.  
"Don´t worry, I won´t join the City Watch in a hurry. But this…"  
There was a noise at the door and - like a shadow - Chidder disappeared from view after putting out the torch.  
We waited a couple of minutes in silence, but nothing happened.

Suddenly I heard Chidder´s voice right at the bars near my ear.  
"See you tomorrow. If they don´t let you out, you can always threaten them with the Lawyers´ Guild. You know, our connections are excellent."  
I grinned into the darkness.  
"Don´t worry about me. See you tomorrow."  
Then he was gone and I went back to my bed to catch up some sleep.

-----ooooo-----

Vimes wasn´t around the next day, when Captain Carrot unlocked my cell door and told me I was free to go.  
"No strings attached?" I asked carefully and searched his face for a sign of dishonesty. Of course I couldn´t find any. Carrot was as straight forward as always.  
"Mr. Vimes didn´t tell me more. Only that you would probably want to go back to the Guild."

Stiffly I got up and nodded.  
"That would be nice."  
"Would you prefer to be brought there by a watchman? To explain things? I´m sure Corporal Nobbs…"  
"No!" I hastily interrupted, "I´ll be fine. Really."

He nodded and just for an instant there was a shimmer in his eyes that looked…mischievously somehow. Then it was gone and I felt sure I´d just imagined things.

When I walked out of the Watch House into the cold winter morning and slowly climbed up onto the roof of the neighbours´house I saw the gargoyle immediately. Not my buddy Bronx whom I hadn´t seen in ages, but one of the stone creatures living in the rooftop area eating pigeons.

He (at least I think it was a "he") made a big show of not looking in my direction.

I ignored him and made my way back to the Assassins´ Guild.

-----ooooo-----

As Chidder had promised Lord Downey didn´t give me a hard time for bringing a dragon in. He didn´t even mention it.

But he was very interested to hear what had been spoken at the Watch House and truthfully I reported every word I remembered. Only my opinion about the explosion and Vimes possible surveillance of my person I withheld.  
Before he dismissed me I had another question.  
"Um…Lord Downey? Could it have been an Assassin? Maybe he just forgot to sign the receipt…"

The headmaster shook his head.  
"There was no admission for any of the men and when it comes to receipts you as a student know best how much we all here emphasize the rules in this particular matter. No inhuming without receipt. Since Mr. Teatime passed away so suddenly I can´t imagine any person here at the Guild being responsible for such a…messy act."

I thanked him and left his office – throught the window, of course.  
"Who got the inconograph for his birthday?" I thought, "Stuart, wasn't it?"

Quickly I hopped onto the window sill of Viper House and knocked. After a few moments a sleepy face appeared, holding a dagger.  
"Hey Jock, it´s only me," I whispered, "Chris. Open up, I need to talk to Stuart."  
Confused the boy nodded, opened the window and went to wake his friend, who certainly wasn´t an early riser either.   
When I left with his iconograph both went straight back to bed, later they would probably think they´d dreamed about my borrowing Stuart´s birthday present.

I fed the imp, who was stiring some yellow liquid in a little pot when I opened the lid. He was wide awake (not like his owner), had a fair amount of all necessary colours and enough small paper sheets to draw on. Closing the lid again I arrived at my room, took a leather bag from its hook, put the iconograph in and slid the strap of the bag over my head. Then I added a few more daggers to those I was already carrying, left my room again and hopped over the wall, quickly moving in the direction of the Shades.

-----ooooo-----

For the first time in months I thought about something else apart from poison, weapons and stylish killing. I´m a big fan of crime stories, with "Law & Order", its German counterpart "Im Namen des Gesetzes" and "Katts & Dog" having special places on my Top Ten list.  
Sure enough, they´re fiction, but still they provide a certain pattern I could follow and to be honest - I just couldn´t resist this opportunity. Besides, with Vimes´ people watching over me, what could possibly go wrong?

The site of crime looked pretty much the same as the day before. Stones, ash and broken parts of furniture everywhere. Even a few stains of the green stuff still stuck to the walls like an ugly (or rather "trendy") painting. No one was in sight.

That meant nothing, of course, especially near the Shades, firm stone walls seem to have eyes, ears and sometimes even other parts of the body.

Since I didn´t know what I was searching for I took a few photos of the ruin, the half chair sticking out of the iron stove and the stains of dead dragon. Then I grabbed a few paper bags (no plastic ones here yet) and carefully put some of the greenish stuff into one. The next was filled with a bit of ash, another with small items I found in the slit between stove and ground. One was a piece of string, another looked like strong wire, the next like a small crank.

I stuffed the folded paper back into my leather bag and tried to spot the center of the explosion. It wasn´t too hard. Judging from the hole in the floor and the traces around it, there had been a cellar-room. As everyone knows Ankh-Morpork is built onto Ankh-Morpork, new stories onto old ones, slowly sinking into the muddy ground. So it had probably been another floor or a shop once and used as a cellar up to now. I wanted to take a few more photos, but all I heard was a gentle knocking at the lid of the iconograph. I opened it and saw the imp stuffing brushes back in little holders.

"I don´t have any paper left." he grumbled, "And the brown is running out."  
"Okay, I´ll get you some more."

I closed the lid again and glanced around. No, the soroundings hadn´t changed and probably wouldn´t within the next few hours. So I put the iconograph away, stepped out of the ruin, walked down the street and into the busy merchant area.

-----ooooo-----

There was a stationery store not far away from the bombed building. Actually it was the very store where the Guild bought everything from chalkboards to special writing feathers (the ones with your name engraved on the side). Mr. and Mrs. Rimme, both slim and pale, were friendly and competent and helped me finding the right sort of paper for the iconograph.  
Their speech was a bit weird, but many immigrants have trouble with Morporkian.

Patiently I waited till Mrs. Rimme finished her sentence.  
"Imp…draw…fine…lines…on…this…paper…"  
"Okay, thank you, Mrs. Rimme. Do you have colours as well?"

Her husband brought a wooden box with little pots like the one the imp worked with. I let him out and chose from the assortment himself.  
"Good…quality," Mr. Rimme assured me, "…not…wash…off…easily."  
I paid for the equipment and turned to go, but at the door something came to my mind and I went back to the counter with the feathers.  
"You have all sorts of paper here. I take it they are from many different suppliers."  
The couple nodded with confused expressions.  
"Different…people…selling…different…quality."  
"Yes, that´s what I meant. If I brought you a sheet of paper, could you tell me who sells this particular sort?"  
"You…bring…us…paper? To…sell?" he asked slowly.  
"No, just to find out who sells this sort."  
Mrs. Rimme suddenly beamed at me.  
"You…want…name…of…seller?"  
Relieved I nodded.  
"Exactly. Could you do it?"  
They looked at each other, then back to me.

"We…can…try."

-----ooooo-----

Satisfied I went to the ruin again, took my last photos of the cellar and climbed back onto the rooftops to make my way to the center of town. From up here I could see people closing and tearing apart the small Hogswatch stands. Most of what was left of them would become fire wood for the cold days that followed Hogswatch Night.

Occassionally I met a thief on his (or her) way home.

Suddenly it occurred to me that it was only one week till Hogswatch – and four days until the first-years would be tested in the sewers.  
I repressed the thought and tried to concentrate on the matter at hand.  
"How do I get the paper, this "receipt" the Watch had found in the ruin?"  
Asking Vimes was out of the question, he´d probably only laugh at me. I knew no skilled thieves, only a few students of the Thieves´ Guild and even if I did they wouldn´t try to steal anything from the Watch House. So I had to "borrow" the clue myself.

But how?

I didn´t even know where to look for it.

Suddenly I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye and sighed deeply. Right, and there was still my stoney shadow to get rid of. The gargoyle was not too bad a stalker, but since I had expected an "escort" I recognized him everywhere. The idea of using pigeons as a disguise amazed me, especially the fact that they didn´t fly away. This was of course before I saw the nails sticking out of the dead birds. Still, a clever idea for a gargoyle of this dimension.

I decided to loose my shadow. The easiest way to get rid of a gargoyle is – sigh needlessly to say – taking a shortcut through the sewers. I descended in a side alley and turned in the direction of the Watch House. Maybe I could find the secret entrance Chidder had spoken of the previous night.

No such luck.

After tapping on stones for about an hour I gave up and went back to the Guild. Since I didn´t want to be seen entering the premises, I never left the sewers till I was already standing unter the Black Widow House, then carefully went through one of the backdoors and actually walked the stairs up to the attic.

After a quick wash I spread the photos out on the cupboard right next to the other clues and stared at them. Destruction, ash, broken furniture. A crank, some wire and string.

The crank was interesting, though. Was it just an object lying around in this house or did the murderer use it for his task? I had used this kind of thing before, for certain traps. The other clues would fit in this scheme as well. But what kind of trap? And where was the connection to the swamp dragons?

Suddenly there was a knock at the window. I put my cloak over the things on the cupboard and went over to see who it was. Only seconds later Chidder hopped into my room and shook his head and shoulders like a dog. Snow fell from them, leaving wet splashes all over the floor.  
"Where have you been? I thought you were still in the cell!"  
With sudden guilty conscience my gaze wandered back to the cupboard.  
"Um…sorry, Chidder, but there was something I had to do after they released me."  
He threw me a curious glance and, shrugging, I decided to tell him what I had found out so far and show him my clues.

With no readable expression he waited till I finished my report, glanced at the cupboard, then sighed heavily and dropped onto the bed.

"For the record, Chris: You belong to the Assassins´ Guild, not the City Watch. No, don´t interrupt me. There is no reason why you should do their job or even think about catching this killer. Only because Vimes keeps an eye on you this doesn´t mean you have to prove anything. The finals are in just a few days and it won´t be easy. Do you really want to die, only because your mind isn´t on the task?"

I thought for a moment, then shook my head.  
"No. But I won´t give this up either. Besides…" I began to grin at him, "…if I had some help, the whole matter could be solved before the finals."

Open-mouthed he stared at me.  
"You aren´t implying…" he noted my expression and closed his mouth again. Then something happened I hadn´t been prepared for. My advisor folded onto my bed and started laughing.

I raised an eyebrow.  
"What´s so funny?"

After a moment he sat up and wiped his eyes with his fingers.  
"Nothing. It´s just…here I am, trying to save you from Mr. Vimes and what are you doing? Talking me into solving his case."  
He chuckled once more.  
"But the funniest thing is that I´ll actually do it. And if it´s only to keep an eye on you myself."

I stared at him like a fool.  
"Um…you do what?"  
"Help you. Come on, take some of your throwing knives, we´ll practice on the way."  
I still didn´t move.  
"Eh…on the way where?"  
Chidder already sat on the window sill.  
"To the Watch House, of course. You said we needed the receipt, didn´t you? Hurry up, or you´ll be late for Nivor´s lesson at 1 o´clock."  
Quickly I grabbed coat and knives and hurried behind Chidder out of the window.

And men keep saying women were one big mystery…

-----ooooo-----

But Fate obviously had other plans with us - we hardly made it to the next building.

The instant we crossed Fog Alley and jumped over to the roof of the Teachers´ Guild there was a detonation behind us. For a moment I swayed and nearly fell off the roof.

But I caught myself again and turned to look at Chidder. Our eyes met and without a word we hurried back, past several chimneys until we could see down the house wall to Widdershins Broadway, the street that separated the Guild House from the Palast grounds. Kneeling we peeked down.

Right next to the window of the Guild´s new map-room stood the smoking remains of a horse carriage. The upper part was missing, obviously blown away with enormous force, the rest was scattered around the place. The wall of our Guild building had a huge black spot, as if someone had splashed a pot of black paint against it. All windows on this side were broken. Quickly I scanned the area and was relieved to see there had been no people near the carriage when it exploded. Students were poking their heads out of the broken windows, chattering excitedly, so they hadn´t been harmed either.

From the Day Watch several guards approached, hesitantly as it is their way.  
Only few precious moments left to take a closer look, before they´d finally be there.

I leapt forward and climbed down the wall as fast as I could. Chidder caught up halfway down and pulled me onto a window sill.  
"What are you doing?" he hissed in my ear.  
"Checking out the evidence. Let me go, this is probably the best opportunity we´ll get!"

He released the grip around my wrist and I continued my descent. The black stuff on the wall was mixed with dark green stains, moist and sticky.

I reached the ground and stared at the smoking wood that had once been a horse carriage. Right on top of a nearly undamaged wheel the backside plank was laying on top of the pile. Something about it was strange.

"What´s this?" Chidder asked quietly at my side and pointed to a small object between the remains. I forgot my last thought and bent over. It was a crank, like the one I´d found at the site of the first bombing.

Before I could grab it there was a shadow darting over a few wooden parts. Something blinked and before I could even think about it my body leapt around, running after it farther down the street. I didn´t even glance back to make sure Chidder was following.

About 20 metres from the carriage there were still parts of it laying around, but the shadow darted to a spot at the palast wall and stopped beside a piece of molten metal.

Breathless I kneeled down next to it.

A movement, too fast for the human eye, another blink, then a small white cloud arised a few inches over the lump of metal and took the shape of a mouse.  
It squieked and vanished in a puff.  
The shadow turned around and glared at me.

"SQUEAK?"

It sounded pretty surprised, although the expression of the skull didn´t change.

"Yes, I can. But why…?"   
"Chris? Who are you talking to?"  
"One second, Chidder, I just…"

Turning back, I found the Death of Rats had vanished as swiftly as he had appeared. I heard a cry and from the corner of an eye saw two guards walking in our direction.

Without another word, my advisor pulled me to my feet and ushered me into God Street - but not before I had buried the still warm metal piece in the depths of my cloak.

I felt its warmth while we were running through the layer of snow past the post office to the building of the Bakers´ Guild, turned into Prog Alley and climbed the house of the Merchants´ Guild. Chidder opened a window and slid in, I followed less gracefully.

-----ooooo-----

Panting we stood in the darkness of a large attic. It smelled of age and spider webs. Chidder glanced out of the window from the side, so that he couldn´t be seen from the alley.   
"No one´s behind us." he finally stated and exhaled slowly.

I looked around.  
"We should disappear as soon as possible. What if someone comes up here?"  
"Don´t worry, my father is a highly regarded member of the Merchants´ Guild. Even if someone came, there wouldn´t be a problem."  
"If you say so."  
"What happened out there anyway? Why did you just turn around and ran away? What´s this metal thing you picked up?"

I reached into my pocket, took it out and put it on the floor. The beam of light from the window made it shimmer. A silvery lump. What could it have been?  
"I don´t know. But I have a feeling it is important."

With one of my throwing knives I cut around it as if it was an orange and the lump broke into two parts easily. Cheap stuff then. The inside was hollow, ash trickled out. A mouse would have just fitted into this hole. Don´t produce much ash, these little things.

"What did they need a mouse for?" I thought aloud.  
"A mouse? What are you talking about?"  
Right. He couldn´t have seen the Death of Rats on duty.  
"There was a mouse in here."  
"How do you know…"  
"Trust me, okay? There was a mouse in this lump of metal. Dragons and a mouse…"  
Something else came to my mind.  
"Did you see the paper?"  
"The wanna-be receipt? No, but there wasn´t much time. Maybe someone else found it or it was just blown away."  
"If this killer uses it to "sign" his work it should be there somewhere."  
"We´ll find out soon enough. I know someone at the Watch House, he´ll tell me."

I nodded absently. The death of this mouse hadn´t been an accident. The little nibbler was part of the bomb, as well as the swamp dragons. But how? What was this metal thing? A cage? I put it back into my pocket and got up.  
"There is another question. Why the Assassins´ Guild? It didn´t look like anybody was hurt, so what was the intention of the killer? Can´t very well have been a glass cutter running amok, could it?"  
"A warning perhaps?"

I stared at him and he shook his head a moment later.  
"But for whom? The only one who…"  
He broke and now it was my turn to shake my head.  
"No one knows," I assured him, "no one apart from you has the faintest idea that I´m poking my nose into this."

"I wouldn´t bet my life on this if I were you." was the dry reply, "come on, let´s go. Rolo should be on duty right now, he´ll probably knows something about this blank receipt."

Carefully we crept out again and made sure there was no one in sight, before we continued our way to the Watch House.

-----ooooo-----

Rolo, a shortsighted little man with enormous feet waddled around one of the desks and opened the window. With clattering teeth we climbed in. It had started snowing again. We left the white wall of coldness behind and enjoyed the warmth of the quiet staff room.   
After a quick introduction Chidder smiled at the watchman.  
"I need information about the explosion at the Guild House."

Rolo glanced behind himself uncomfortably.  
"I don´t know much. And you´d better be out in a second, before Nobby comes back."  
"This won´t take long. What do you know?"  
"Some sort of carriage blew up in Widdershins Broadway. No people were injured. Fred said they used dragons, like in Mr. Gumtree´s case, but nobody knows how."  
"Was there a piece of paper among the remains?" I interrupted.  
The watchman looked at me uncertainly, then nodded.  
"I heard they found a paper in a box only a few metres from the carriage. But it was blank."

Chidder threw me a glance, then turned back to Rolo.  
"Where is the first one?"

The watchman waddled to his desk, took something from a drawer and came back.  
"Igor brought it back an hour ago. Said he couldn´t find anything, not even traces of a magical spell."

I grabbed the sheet before Chidder could and stared at it anxiously.  
Somehow it disappointed me. It was really only a blank sheet of paper, about the size of a small book.  
"We need to borrow it."

Rolo shook his head.  
"No! No way! Mr. Vimes would kill me if he knew I was talking to you, let alone show you the paper."

I drew a knife and he paled and stepped back.  
Swiftly I cut a stripe from the paper, just about half a centimeter from the bottom of the sheet, then handed the paper back. Hesitantly Rolo took it. Hopefully no one would discover that is was a bit shorter than before.

The sound of footsteps on the corridor made us turn – the watchman towards the door, us two towards the window.  
Before the handle moved we were already out and on the way up to the roof.  
Heavy snowflakes were sinking onto the chimneys and bridges between the buildings. The sky had a depressing grey colour.

"If we hurry a bit, we can just ask the Rimmes about the paper and be back for your lesson in time." Chidder remarked. I nodded, shivering under my coat, and we hopped onto the next roof.

-----ooooo-----

"Fine…paper." Mr. Rimme noted with professional satisfaction. He held it against the light of his latern, then turned to the side to compare it with the samples on the other table. In the dim light his face looked paler than ever.

Chidder and I could hardly conceal our impatience.  
A few minutes later the shopkeeper gave me the slip back.  
"Sorry…don´t…know…paper. It…" he made a gesture into the room, "…not…from…Ankh…Morpork. Very…fine." he nodded again, emphazising the last part.  
"Well," Chidder said, with disappointment in his voice, "thank you anyway, Mr. Rimme. Come on, Chris, we better go back."  
I nodded gloomily.  
"Yes. Thanks, Mr. Rimme. Bye."

-----ooooo-----

"Miss Stein?"  
I woke from my daydreaming and looked into Mr. Nivor´s face.  
"Sorry, I was a bit…absent."  
"I could see that." the old Assassin grinned, "If you were sitting in a normal sized class of students, I probably wouldn´t even notice. There are certain disadvantages in having private lessons."

I smiled back.  
"Yeah, but the advantages still outweight them. Mr. Nivor, can you think of a trap you need a mouse for? And a crank?"  
The teacher leaned back.  
"Ah, an exercise for the mind. Well, let´s see…a mouse…that would be one of the 2nd or 3rd year traps then…technically advanced…did you already read next year´s books?"  
"No, I couldn´t make it to the library in time today."

Nivor got up and searched through the mess on his desk till he found a heavy hardcover. I stood and took it. "The History of Traps and Deadfalls". I noticed the lack of spelling mistakes in the title. Very…uncommon.  
"You will find the basics we already went through in the past months, plus examples for traps with a certain technical "je-ne-ce-quoi". The book was not written exclusively for people of our profession, though, so please ignore the chapters about alchemy and wizardry."

Nodding I let the book slid into my bag.  
"Thank you, Mr. Nivor."  
"I can think of quite a few traps you need mice or other little rodents for to activate them, but just you take a look at the book. And pick one of the 2nd year exercises to replicate for our next lesson. You´ll find we already talked about half of them."

With this I was dismissed.

-----ooooo-----

Back in my room I put the stripe of paper on the cupboard to the other clues, glanced at the photos again and dropped onto my bed.

So the paper itself didn´t really help. A secret message, written with onion juice perhaps? As a kid I´d done that often playing detective games with my friends. But Vimes and Igor had certainly thought of this as well and Rolo would have known about it. Why would someone use paper, the common medium for transfering messages, place it at the site of the bombing and write nothing on it? No statement, no reclamation, nothing.

Strange.

Okay, so what would a TV-detective do? Find out if Mr. Gumtree and his friends had enemies. No rich enemies, for they would have hired an Assassin for this assignment. An unhappy customer the florist had sent the wrong arrangement of flowers? Didn´t justify the trouble setting up a bomb. There had to be more behind this.  
But my possibilities in that respect were limited. I decided to leave this part of work to Vimes alone. Hopefully he would share these informations with the other watchmen and Rolo could share them with Chidder and me.

I flipped through the pages of the book Nivor had given me. There were some beautiful traps and something that looked like a certain scorpion pit in Lord Vetinari´s palace.

But not even in the restricted parts was a construction that connected dragons (or other explosives) and a mouse. No help here either.

Frustrated I left the book on my bed and took my coat.  
It was still wet.

But a little walk outside would do me good - and probably lead to a new angle of view.

-----ooooo-----

When I came back to my room more than three hours later Chidder was laying on my bed, snoring.  
I grinned, put my coat back on the hook and sat next to him. When I slowly reached for the open book on his chest, he awoke.  
"Oh. Hello…um…"

"Don´t let Nivor know that this book was so boring you couldn´t keep your eyes open."  
I said, closed it and placed it next to my clues.

Chidder sat up, yawned and scratched his head.  
"Where have you been?"

"Met the Librarian in the Drum, had a few drinks, then went to the palace, talked to a stable hand, two kitchen helpers and a couple of servants and practiced the "tourist-walk" under the pavement afterwards. Will we be allowed to take a crossbow down there for first-year finals? Some rats are as big as cats. And those living under UU glow in the dark."

My advisor blinked.  
"Yes, sure, you can take whatever weapon you want down with you. Just like in the very last test. What did you go to the palace for?"

"Remember the carriage this morning?"  
"The one that spread dragon all over the façade? Hard to forget."  
"It had a wooden plate at the back."  
""I brake for little furry animals"?"  
"Um…yes, but there was another: It was the palace emblem. The carriage belonged to the palace vehicles."  
Chidder wasn´t completely awake yet.  
"So? Then someone stole a carriage from the palace. It had to come from somewhere."

I felt my grin broaden.  
"This particular one just came from Klatch very late yesterday night. It brought letters for two servants, fruit and vegetable for the palace kitchen and a couple of parcels for various merchants in town. One of its wheels had been damaged by a rockfall. It barely made it to the gate. The coachman drove it to Mr. Goblet - who´s in charge of the coachs and carriages - and left for the Drum. When he came back, around midnight, it had a new wheel and the coachman went to bed in the firm belief he would use it the next morning at six to drive back to Klatch. Turned out he was wrong. Obviously the guy in the black cloak who was supposed to bring the carriage back to the parking lot never arrived there, but disappeared instead."

"Did the coachman see the guy?"

"He recognized his carriage passing by and stopped it. The mysterious stranger who steered it told him between coughs that Mr. Goblet had ordered him to bring the vehicle back to the parking lot where it should be picked up the following morning. The coachman couldn´t give me a description for it was too dark and the other guy had a scarf around his face. Because of the coldness, he thought."

"Maybe the carriage was just brought to a different place?"

"Ah, but Mr. Goblet told his niece to bring it to the lot earlier and she did. He doesn´t have any other helpers."

Chidder rubbed his eyes and stood up.  
"Fine. Then someone stole this carriage around midnight last night, prepared it with the bomb and parked it next to the Guild House. It still doesn´t make sense. Who was the target?"

"That´s what I asked myself. But then Pim, the little kitchen helper, told me that a carriage had obviously been brought into the small inner courtyard in the night and remained there until about five thirty in the morning, when he started working in the kitchen. He didn´t have much to do at first, because the cook was late, so he looked out of the window and saw that the carriage with the new wheel half standing under the arch of the tower blocked the way of Mr. Crust."

"Who´s Mr. Crust?"

"A winery owner, has a shop in Purse Street. The wizards of UU are his best customers."

I had Chidder´s full attention now and went on.  
"Well, because of "our" carriage Mr. Crust couldn´t get near the cellar door to bring his delivery down and thus ordered another kitchen helper to "move the bloody thing out of my bloody way" as he put it. And a kid named Benny went to park it in Widdershins Broadway, for he was in a hurry and the horses were needed elsewhere."

Still grinning I watched Chidder´s face, who was chewing my words over again.  
"Then…this means the Guild has never been the target in the first place! It was just an accident."  
"Right."  
"Who would have been in the tower when the bomb exploded?"  
"Many people: servants, delivery personnel, messengers…and the Patrician."

Chidder sat down heavily.  
"The Patrician?" he croaked.  
"Yep. Having his breakfast in Oblong Office and listening to the earliest messages coming in."  
"The target was the Patrician?"  
"Well, at least that´s what it looks like."

He shook his head in disbelief.  
"And you found all this out…"  
"…by listening to a few well chosen people."  
"The fee on his head is constantly rising. But no Assassin who tried to earn it was ever heard from again."  
"When you play fair, you don´t have a chance getting him. Even when playing unfair he has the advantage. But this…it´s like Old Man Trouble himself had his hands in this affair."

My advisor slowly recovered and got up again.  
"Well, now that we know more what are we going to do with the information?"  
"How about telling Vimes? I´d like to hear what he thinks about this mysterious receipt and what he found out about Mr. Gumtree in exchange. He could arrange better protection for Lord Vetinari as well."

"Always on the condition that we actually want him to do that…"  
"What?!"  
"I mean, maybe it would be a good idea to say nothing and let the killer strike again. I know a lot of people who´d be glad if Vetinari was dead and buried."

I shook my head and glared at him.  
"You can´t be serious. We aren´t talking nice clean inhuming here, but…slaughter. This bomb-business is just not…right. Think of all the innocent people who´d get killed if the next bomb went off…I´m sure "messy" wouldn´t be a strong enough expression!"

"There is no such thing as "innocent" people…" Chidder murmured, but you could see his heart wasn´t into it.

"All right, then. Let´s go and see Mr. Vimes…" he added with a sigh.

-----ooooo-----

"You again!"  
I couldn´t help smiling.  
"And a good evening to you, Commander Vimes."

He walked around his desk and stopped in front of us.  
"In case you haven´t noticed: I can´t stand Assassins!"  
Chidder opened his mouth, but I was quicker.  
"We won´t disturb you longer than necessary. Do you have any news about the bombings?"

Vimes frowned.  
"What makes you think I´d share this information with you?"  
"Because", Chidder chirped with a broad smile, "we have something in return. We know who´s the target of the killer."

For an instant Vimes looked stunned, but then his stony expression returned.  
"So? And how would you know this?"  
I nudged Chidder with my elbow. If he went on like this, we probably wouldn´t get any information at all.  
"Please Mr. Vimes, do you have any idea why Mr. Gumtree and his friends were killed?"  
His gaze went back to me, I could see he was considering throwing us out. But then he grunted, turned around and dropped himself back into his chair.  
"Tell me about your…conclusions."  
"First we´d like to heaaahhh…"

I took my foot from Chidder´s and sat on the chair in front of the desk.  
"I asked a few questions at various places this afternoon and soon…"

It was basically the same story I´d told Chidder earlier. The Commander didn´t interrupt me, only lifted his eyebrow every now and then.  
When I´d finished he excused himself for a moment and went out.  
"You think that was wise?" Chidder whispered in my ear. "Now he has everything and we have nothing."

He fell silent when Vimes came back, Fred Colon and Nobby Nobbs on his heels.  
"Captain Carrot and Sergeant Angua are on their way to the palace. Fred, you and Nobby will go and arrest the suspects. Tell Constable Downspout to stop the surveillance of Miss Stein at once and help them."  
The Commander grabbed his helmet and coat.  
Chidder and I jumped up and hurried behind him, down the stairs and out of the Watch House.  
"What suspects?" Chidder wanted to know while we were running over Brass Bridge.  
"Mr. and Mrs. Rimme, of course. I´m surprised you never draw this conclusion yourself."  
"Why should we?" I asked, totally stunned, but still keeping up, "They have been living here for so long, why do you think they´re trying to kill the Patrician all of a sudden?"  
"Nevertheless, the paper of the receipts came from their shop."  
"But…but Mr. Rimme said he´d never…" I stopped.

Of course he´d said he´d never seen this kind of paper before. He must have recognized the material immediately. But how did the Watch got on the trail of the shopkeepers? How did they find out about the paper? Did they know the meaning of the blank receipts?

My questions had to wait, though.

Carott and Angua had informed the palace guards and a frantic search of the grounds had begun already. Vimes rushed in and we followed as if we belonged here.  
There was not much time to marvel at the surroundings. When we arrived outside the Oblong Office a well-dressed clerk stepped in our way.  
"I´m sorry, Commander Vimes, but Lord Vetinari is in a meeting. I can make an appointment if you…"

The man immediately forgot the rest of his sentence.  
Dangling out of a window, only supported by your coattails sticking out of a cupboard door, can do strange things to your mind. I heard Chidder´s gasp next to me. Vimes´ movements had seemed too quick for a human being.

Like a pair of black ducklings we followed the Commander into the Oblong Office.

The Patrician looked up and put his writing feather down on the desk.  
"Commander Vimes. What a pleasant surprise. My, I had no idea you were recruiting Assassins for the Watch now."

The Commander half-turned his head, growled something when his gaze fell upon us and turned back again.  
"Sir, we assume there is a bomb on the Palace Grounds, ready to explode. Evacuation already started. Would you please follow me to…um…a safer place?"  
There was a cry from outside and a second later Angua stood at the door.  
"We found it, sir! It´s in the Throne Room. And it´s…humming…"

Without another look at the others Chidder and I raced past her and down again. It never occurred to us to run for safety, now that we were in the middle of all the action. That´s probably why so many "heroes" are so young. I´m sure most of them never even realize they were doing something that could be considered brave. They just did what promised the most thrill at the very moment without thinking of the consequences. And that´s what usually prevents young heroes from becoming old heroes.

Hopefully we didn´t belong to this category.

I felt my heartbeat in my throat when we made our way through the crowd of bystanders blocking the door to the Throne Room.  
There was the ancient Golden Throne of the Kings of Ankh, right behind the small wooden chair the current ruler of the city used instead. A quiet, very quiet humming noise was coming from the other side of the room.  
A huge wooden box stood in a corner, Carott was kneeling next to it, with his ear firmly pressed onto the side.  
"There is a creaking right here." he pointed to one corner of the box, then moved his finger a little to the left, "And the music is coming from here."

There was shuffling and a grunting from the opposite side of the box.  
"The dragons." Chidder stated, and then, "Why don´t you open it?"  
"Because…" Carott began and got up,"…the dragons are already nervous. Opening the box may cause them to explode."  
"But how are you going to defuse it?" I panted.

At this the Patrician walked into the room, closely followed by Vimes.  
"How…unusual. I shall see that the incoming mail will be inspected more thoroughly in the future."  
"Your Lordship, if you´d come this way…it would be safer in the garden…"  
"Oh, it certainly would, Commander. But not as entertaining. I think I rather stay and watch your competent men – oh, and women, obviously - taking control of the situation."

Vimes grunted something, then turned and ordered Angua to bring everyone else out of the building.  
"What about them?" she asked, pointing in our direction.  
We looked at the Commander.  
He looked back with a grim expression, then waved his hand dismissively.

"They can stay for the moment."

-----ooooo-----

Carott had taken a measuring tape out of his pocket and wrote some figures in his notebook.  
My advisor tried to peek through a hole in the chest, but shook his head when I nudged him. It was too dark inside the box to see anything.  
Eventually the quiet conversation at the door died down and the only ones left in the Throne Room were the Patrician, Vimes, Carott, Chidder and I.

The creaking noise seemed to be a little louder now.  
"I know this noise." I said thoughtfully and pressed my ear against the wood like Carott had before. "Add a mouse to it…" – and with the image of the small metal lump entering my mind the solution finally hit me.  
"A wheel. A hamster wheel."  
Of course. My brother once had two gerbils and they always used to run in theirs the whole night long. Even when oiled it made this characteristic sound.

Vimes kneeled beside me and listened as well.  
"How does it work?"

"I´m not sure. It probably runs until it activates something that makes the dragons explode." I replied, "Maybe it sets something free, a certain smell they hate for example. But where does the music come from?"

The shuffling inside the box grew louder and for an instant noboby moved.

Then Chidder got up and drew a knife.  
"Better we make the wheel stop then."

Vimes grabbed his arm and shook his head.  
"Not yet. You might set it off anyway. We don´t know what the wheel is connected to."

"Tell me, Mr. Vimes," the Patrician asked in a conversational voice, "your men didn´t happen to find a small crank in the remains of the first two bombs? Or an oddly coloured or shaped part of wood?"

Vimes threw him a sharp glance.  
"Well, there was a board that had drawings on, and we found a crank next to the Assassins´ Guild building…but not in the Shades."

Feeling rather uncomfortable I cleared my throat.  
"Um…Commander? There was…um…a crank in the house Mr. Gumtree and his friends were killed. Under…um…the stove…"

I would have given a huge amount of money to be able to shrink myself and fall through a slit in the floor, if that meant avoiding the stare that hit me now. The next conversation with Vimes wouldn´t be pleasant.

Always assuming we were going to survive the next half hour.

"Ah." the Patrician nodded, walked slowly over to Chidder and me, took the knife from Chidder´s hand and placed the pointed blade in a small slit at the side of the chest. Then, with a sudden movement of his wrist, he pushed it inside.

Everything stopped.  
The creaking noise.  
The music.  
Even the shuffling from the other end.

After a few seconds I heard Chidder exhale and found I had held my breath either.  
Lord Vetinari nodded again, thoughtfully, and wandered over to the wooden chair at the bottom of the throne. He sat down and raised an eyebrow.  
"If you would open the chest with the appropriate care, Captain…"

Carott got up and slowly lifted the lid.

We stared into the nervous eyes of six swamp dragons, firmly tied together. Their stomachs gave an irritated growl every now and then. On the other side of the chest there was a colourful little box and, at one side - connected with string and wire and a crank - a hamster wheel with a very confused mouse sitting inside. The knife still stuck between two of the tiny bars, but hadn´t harmed the nibbler. The whole purpose of the little wheel had obviously been to spin the crank that kept the music from the box going. Everyone saw at once what kind of box it was and could think of the consequences, if it had opened.

The lid shifted a little, but Chidder pressed his finger on it immediately and pushed another knife in the slit at the side to keep it closed.  
No danger here anymore, but there were still six very nervous dragons…and something else on the bottom of the chest…

I reached into it and took the first dragon out. Chidder grabbed another and – as if we´d read each other´s minds - we quickly brought all six of them over to a little supply room across the hallway, one by one. Hopefully they would calm down between brushes and buckets until Lady Sybil picked them up later.

Then there was only the box left.  
And the mouse in the wheel.  
And the black powder at the bottom of the box.  
Much of it.

Enough to blow up the tower and leave nothing but a smoking crater in the center of the city.

-----ooooo-----

"How was it supposed to work?" Vimes asked hoarsly.

Despite the fact that the dragons were now in the next room, far away from the box, and Carott had swept the black powder into a glass vase I only hesitantly unfastened the wheel from the crank and set the mouse free. It squeaked, sat up on its little hindlegs with trembling whiskers and finally decided to leave quickly through the open door.

"The wheel makes the crank spin." I told the Commander, pulled Chidder´s knifes out and turned the little piece of metal next to the box with my hand. The music started again, louder this time, "Then…"

At this the lid suddenly opened and a very ugly jack-in-the-box with a huge grin sprang out. It had a fool´s cap with bells and the little glowworm inside its wooden skull made it look like a jack o´latern. Without doubt the dragons would have responded to the sight.

Even we humans, although we´d expected something like this, startled. (Well, all apart from Lord Vetinari, I presume).  
There was nothing more to say, so I just closed the chest and – like the others - turned around, when I heard angry voices from the corridor.

"…can´t…do…this…"  
"Well, I dunno, Fred, we already did, didn´t we? I mean if ya say "can´t", wouldn´t that mean, we haven´t tried yet…it´s kinda…wossname…"  
"Nobby, please stop that…I assure you, Mr. Ri…"  
"I…wish…to…see…Commander…Vimes!"  
"Well, you see, that´s what I wanted to tell you all the time. He´s here, we going straight…"

At this a strange group appeared in the doorway.

Fred Colon and Nobby Nobbs were half-leading, half-pulling Mr. and Mrs. Rimme into the Throne Room. Both looked very…insecure. Glancing around like trapped bunnies they seemed to be confused and frightened at the same time. Something was strange about them, but I couldn´t put my finger on. Their faces, their movements…the thought slipped away, when Chidder nudged me slightly in the side. I looked up, saw his eyebrow climbing upwards and shrugged in confusion. Then we went on watching the scene.

Vimes went over to the couple with a grim expression.  
While he introduced himself politely I threw a glance at Lord Vetinari. The Patrician went through a few papers on his small desk. He seemed to be quite busy and whenever he looked up – which wasn´t very often – his face only wore a mild interested expression, as if he didn´t belong here, but only watched all this from a distance - to entertain himself a little while working on something more important.

Actually I pictured myself sitting in front of the TV doing homework with exactly the same expression. Mild interest…and something else…"what´s all this nonsense about bunnies and TV and homework? Where is this leading to?" a little voice in my head wondered, but deep down I felt it had a meaning, maybe not everything, but…

We watched as Vimes was talking to the pale couple.  
It took them some time to formulate words to express their anger about the treatment. Then they began emphazising their wish to go home, right away.  
And the little voice knocked onto the walls of my mind, helping me to focus my attention on the gestures of the angry shopkeepers. They used their arms as if they were the tools to express oneself properly…

Suddenly I felt another presence entering the room and turned my head. A black cloak came through the wall next to the Throne. I saw the familiar bony skull, a skeleton hand holding a scythe. Everyone else was watching Vimes dealing with the angry Rimme couple, I was the only one staring in the other corner.  
"Why is he here?" my mind asked, no, "cried out" in sudden shock, "Whom did he come for?"

Was there anything I had missed, a detail about the bomb I had overlooked? Was it still going to explode, killing us all? But that was impossible, the dragons were in another room and the gunpowder in a closed glass vase next to the chest. No way it could be set on fire there.

Death leaned the scythe against the wall and searched his cloak until he found an hourglass. He held it against the fading light and I could see that not much sand was left in the upper part.

So it was only one person – but who? Vimes? Chidder? Myself?

I felt sweat appearing on my forehead and my hand was wandering into a concealed pocket all by itself. Holding my favourite throwing knife gave a bit of comfort, even if it didn´t really mean anything.

Glancing around the room I suddenly realized that it had become quiet.  
Unusually quiet.  
And I wasn´t the center of attention, for a change.

Everyone had their eyes on Mr. and Mrs. Rimme, who were waving their arms in complete silence, their faces twisting sometimes, while slowly walking backwards in the direction of the door. No one hindered them.

My eyes fell on Vimes, who only stood there with a strained expression, the same I could see on Carott´s face. It looked like they were trying to figure out a very difficult math problem. Nobby and Fred Colon seemed very relaxed, Chidder´s face showed surprise, the Patrician´s expression was as unreadable as always…then I felt it myself…my gaze was wandering back to the couple who was still gesticulating in silence, I just couldn´t take my eyes off them.

"Stop them!" the voice inside my head cried out, but I couldn´t move a muscle, couldn´t speak, couldn´t look away.

They were too strong.

From the corner of the eye I saw Death picking up his scythe and stepping forward, without rush, obviously still waiting for something.

The strange theater went on, calmer now, since the couple didn´t fear anyone to stop them. We were all drawn to their gestures, the story behind their swift movements – it looked like they were telling a tale, a strange, but wonderful tale full of magic, mystery and joy, a beautiful…I shook my head mentally and tried to figure out why this lame excuse for entertainment had a familiar feeling that made me shiver.

Somehow it was like a car crash – you just can´t bear to look at it, but you can´t look away either.

And then I suddenly remembered.   
TV indeed.  
Shows for little kids.  
The Teletubbies.  
Barney.

You know the feeling:

You switch the TV on and the channel shows this purple dinosaur telling you the world is nice and wonderful and we should all hug one another and sing a cheerful song and be happy. It always takes me a couple of moments, even minutes sometimes to realize what´s going on with me, that I don´t really want to watch this poor excuse for entertainment some kids seem to be so addicted to.

It´s strong.

It captures you and you can´t look away until you remember how to break the diabolic spell.

All you have to do is to press a button on your remote control, switch to another channel, another program that helps your distracted mind back on track.  
Then you can begin thinking straight again, to focus on what you actually wanted to see.  
All it takes is a moment of distraction.

All I needed was the equivalent to a remote control.

-----ooooo-----

Mr. Rimme waved his hand in a wide circle, his wife´s gesture looked like she was stroking a pet. Both were still walking backwards, slowly.  
Death tapped his bony fingers against the handle of the scythe.  
Vimes and Carott were fighting the spell, but not successfully. With only a brief moment of distraction they may be able to grab the couple and tie them up.

I didn´t have a remote control.

But I felt my hand gripping my throwing knife firmer, then, slowly like in trance and still staring at the silent performance near the door, I measured the distance, aimed……and let the knife fly.

Everyone in the room visibly startled when Mr. Rimme´s hand grabbed his throat. His wife´s mouth opened for a scream, but nothing came out.

Then the man fell backwards and hit the floor. I was the only one who saw the figure in the cloak waving the scythe. Then it vanished and everyone hurried over to the body in the corridor. Vimes grabbed Mrs. Rimme and pinned her against the wall next to the supply room, where a whimpering noise indicated that the dragons didn´t like the darkness or the sounds from outside.

I stumbled forward to take a look at the late shopkeeper myself.  
His eyes were wide open and his hands were still covering his throat were the knife had gone through.  
"Good shot." Chidder remarked cheerfully.

"I…I…" I needed to sit down for a minute.

Desperately.

"Would make a poor impression, puking all over the body, wouldn´t it?" grinned the voice inside my head. I felt the strong desire to strangle it slowly.  
Instead I walked to the window – where the nameless clerk was still hanging out, probably unconcious by now - and sat down on the sill.  
"You okay?" my advisor asked concernedly, "No need to worry, it´s not unheard of that students inhumed someone apart from their classmates before receiving their official degree. You won´t get any trouble."  
"But…but…"  
"Maybe you even get higher marks in…"  
"Chidder."  
"Yes?"  
"I didn´t aim at his throat."  
His face fell.  
"You didn´t?"  
"No. I aimed at the space between them. I just wanted to distract them, not to kill anybody."

He stared at me for an instant, then nodded slowly, patted me on the shoulder and walked back towards the dead man. I looked out of the window over to the Guild House. "Do they throw you out for accidently killing someone? No, it was still self defence. I killed someone in self defence…. Hell, I killed someone!"

Only slowly the meaning of these few words sank in.

I don´t know how long I sat there.  
Suddenly someone dropped next to me and I looked up.

Chidder smiled and held a golden letter opener up. Blood was dripping from the blade.  
"Mhmm, let me guess: Gold? Not your style. You are more the dwarf-iron-type. I recall you buying your first own weapon. Not a piece of fancy jewelry to fill with poison or an elegant fencing sword, but a small, strong, reliable knife. And well balanced, too. Like this."

He raised his other hand and there was my favourite throwing knife, a little scratched, but without any body fluids sticking to the blade. I took it and looked at the smirking young man in disbelief.

"Where…? How…?"  
"Right behind them in the wall. You can still see the slit where it went in between the stones."  
"But who…?"  
Before I could finish the question another dark-dressed figure stopped in front of us.

"Ah, Miss Stein, Mr. Chidder. If you don´t need the opener anymore…I still have a lot of work to do and undoubtly it will include dealing with letters. In sealed envelopes."

With an expression close to admiration Chidder handed the letter opener over to the Patrician, who turned around with – and I couldn´t swear I really saw that – a twitch in the corner of his mouth.

We watched him exchanging a few words with Commander Vimes, before he went back to the Oblong Office.

Suddenly there was a whining from below. Chidder rolled his eyes, grabbed the coattails we were sitting on and together we pulled a very shaken clerk inside. He mumbled something and disappeared as fast as he could.

-----ooooo-----

I was standing in complete darkness. Somewhere from my right came a repressed snigger and I made a mental note to kick Jock´s butt next time I saw him. An audience at this particular time – even when all they wanted was lending moral support – can be very irritating.  
Carefully I made my way towards the next corner, leading to a narrow tunnel – not exactly a perfect opportunity for traps, more for an ambush. Before walking around I checked the suroundings with a little mirror.  
But not a single beam of light shone down into this part of the sewers, so my vision was still pretty poor.

I put my leather bag down and opened it. Three pairs of eyes filled with pure hatred stared at me. Carefully I cut the strings of the first rat and sat the animal with the red-glowing fur down. In less than an instant it had vanished around the corner. A short clapping, an angry yelp (yes, the rats actually yelp down here) and through my mirror I saw a red spot flying past the corner and hitting the wall on the other side. It fell down like a lump of meat and layed on the floor for a moment, then jumped up again and vanished in a hole nearby. A repressed cry had come from the end of the tunnel leading to the vine cellar of Lord Rust - where I had to pass through.

"Eeek! A rat!"  
"Shut up and keep looking out. She´ll be here soon enough. You know I want her."

I smiled grimly into the darkness.  
Sarah Rubis and Betty Drowner.  
My favourite foes in one spot.   
This was too good to be true.

"Where´s Lindy? She was supposed to meet us here."  
"Sshh. She probably had to slow down a bit on the way. She´ll come."

And it was even getting better.

I had met Lindy only 20 minutes ago. Now she was hanging from an iron hook in another tunnel, with a gag in her mouth. A plan began to take shape in my mind.

Their trap was simple, but effective. Somewhere on the ground they had installed a board, connected to a few springs. Whoever stepped onto the board was catapulted through the tunnel and smashed against the the wall on the other end. That´s what had happened to the rat. Even though the trap itself was not lethal, the girls had enough time to make it lethal by shooting poisoned darts at you while you were still lying on the ground, trying to figure out what had hit you.

Quickly I searched my bag for the small pieces of cheese and bacon I had needed to catch the rats under UU premises. I threw them around the corner near the spot where I guessed the trap must be and loosened the string around the legs of the second rat, but leaving the one around its neck. Now I had a rat on a leash. Of course it tried to get away from me as quick as possible, but since there were only two ways to go, why not taking the road leading to food?

I felt the pull and saw the red furball with the glowing eyes running around the corner. Carefully I followed, moving very close along the wall. I couldn´t see a thing, but then my opponents were certainly as blind as I was. The red light of the rat´s fur wasn´t bright, it only showed the animal itself, not its suroundings, so I felt pretty save.

Another clapping sound and the leash was pulled out of my hand. I saw the shape of the board sticking out only about a meter or so in front of my feet. Then I heard a repressed curse and saw a figure coming around the corner. Sarah darted out of her hide for the second time to set the trap. She startled a little when I appeared at her side and helped her pushing the board down again.

"Lindy?"  
"Yes." I said quietly, immitating the lisp of the blond second-year.  
"Was about time." she whispered and let the bolt snap back, "Is she behind you?"  
"Yes, hurry up."

She finished her work and pulled me around the next corner where Betty was already waiting. Since Betty didn´t like rats in the least, Sarah had to do most of the work. The other girl was more into the poison business, as the blowpipes and darts on the floor indicated. The little light falling into this side of the tunnel was enough to make out objects and people, but since both girls were anxiously staring into the tunnel I´d just come from they didn´t recognize me. Just another second-year serving as bait, they probably thought. But I had to act, before one of them turned around.

I reached into my bag and felt for my last rat. The beast tried to bite me, but with its muzzle firmly tied, it was a useless attempt. I loosened the string around its paws and left the one around its neck. This rat had been the strongest of the three.

I wondered if Betty would appreciate the present I now attached to her left ankle.

-----ooooo-----

The scream that followed could be heard throughout the whole sewer system.

It even saved the life of another first-year. Little Daniel was surrounded by second-years and while they were trying to figure out where the inhuman howl was coming from, he stabbed one, wounded two others with his dagger and raced off.

While Betty was jumping up and down screaming Sarah turned to me and drew her knife. I held my own up and waited for her attack.  
With a growl she leapt forward.

But our blades never met.

Howling Betty had jumped first – to the only person she expected to get help from: Sarah.

The two girls collided in mid-air and fell back onto the dark, dirty ground, a yelling mix of arms, legs, knives and mud – and a very confused red-glowing rat.  
Before either of them could get their senses back, I turned around and ran to the secret door of the vine cellar. Pulling an iron torch holder opened it. I slipped through and closed it from the other side.

I had passed.

-----ooooo-----

Chidder was waiting on a table with a glass of beer in front of him. I walked over and took a seat. A few guests threw angry glances in my direction, but most of the regulars didn´t even frown at the foul smell that had entered the tavern with me.  
Most regulars of the Drum are used to worse.

My advisor sipped at his beer and waved the waitress.  
"What do you want?"  
Since you don´t get Bailey´s anywhere on the Disc (I still hope Pterry will be doing something about that in the future) I ordered a lemonade.

"So…" Chidder continued, "You passed. I guess that means we´ll still be working together next year."  
I nodded slowly, too tired to comment his heavy sigh.

"Mr. Vimes gave me a message for you."  
My head jerked up.  
"What?"

"He told me to tell you Mrs. Rimme had confessed. She and her husband were trying to invade this part of the country in their own way. They probably thought once Ankh-Morpork had lost its ruler – a man who knew about their kind and forbid even imitating their ways – there would be nothing left hindering them and their people to come in and take everything into their hands. Apparently Mr. Rimme was the one insisting on signing the bombs so everyone could see the power of the Wordless…"

Something clicked in my head.  
"The "Wordless"……you mean mime artists."

That´s why their receipts had been blank. And belatedly I realized that even their name held a clue I´d missed. Well, that´s life for you – in a TV crime-story someone would have seen that earlier.

"Did Vimes find out why they put the bomb in Mr. Gumtree´s house?"  
"The shape of the room under the house was similar to the arch of the Palace tower. Kind of the perfect test area."  
"Why did he suspect the Rimmes in the first place?"  
"It seems that the gargoyle following you made a report about where you went. Others were sent to various places to watch the people you met and talked to. Somehow they found out about the paper - I can´t imagine how, but obviously there was a pile of it in the back room of their stationery store. Vimes made a remark about having the right nose for this job."

He shrugged.  
"Maybe just a copper´s saying. What are you grinning about?"  
"Uh…nothing."

Lost in thoughts I slurped the rest of my lemonade.  
"What happened to Mrs. Rimme?"  
"I heard she´s waiting for the trial. Rolo said nobody saw her leaving the palace."

So Vetinari had found a free scorpion pit for his guest.

Suddenly a hairy hand fell on my shoulder.  
"Ook!"  
"Oh, thank you. But how did you know about the final?"  
"Ook."  
"Well, that´s as good an explanation as any. I´ll see you around."  
The Librarian winked and went over to the counter before the barman could hide the peanut bowls.

Chidder got up.  
"Well then…how do you feel about Klatchian?"  
"About Klatchians?"  
"Food. Klatchian…food. Maybe we can have dinner in the Curry Gardens tonight? To…you know…celebrate that you´re still alive and…the city is save and all…"  
I only glared.  
"Chidder, are you asking me out?"  
He sighed.  
"I suppose so. What do you say?"  
"I´d be delighted."  
"Fine. Then I´ll pick you up at 8 o´clock."

-----ooooo-----

With a sigh Jill looked down at my muddy pantsuit. "If I were you I´d burn this one…" she murmured and handed me a white blouse with self-made embroidery. Spiders and suchlike. Much better than that awful flower stuff.  
"This should fit. You sure you don´t want a dress?"  
"No, I hate them. Really. I can take my other pair of trousers. Thanks a lot for the blouse."  
"You´re welcome. Use one of the showers upstairs, I saw a few of the second-years fiddling with the ones on this floor. They must be trying out Nivor´s bathroom traps."  
"Okay, thanks. See you later."

Climbing up the house wall and onto the roof I heard her yelling after me.  
"And don´t forget to read the chapter about first dates!"  
I grumbled something and glanced at the book she had given me, the horrible "How to find the man of your dreems…"- hardcover.

I had intended to "forget" it on a smoking chimney, but maybe – somewhere in the distant future - Jill wanted to look up one of the few passages she hadn´t learned by heart yet. So I just stuffed it deep into my cupboard before I went to the showers.

An hour and three big pieces of soap later I finally felt like a human being again.

-----ooooo-----

It was a nice evening.

The curry was excellent and we talked about lessons and teachers and what we were going to do during Hogswatch holidays (I let Chidder do the talking here since I couldn´t possibly tell him about a certain space station).

Suddenly we found ourselves out on dark and empty Blood Alley, strolling towards Contract Bridge. The moon was full, the stars bright and slowly but surely this was getting a romantic touch with all the ingrediences: Red faces, shuffling feet and long periods of distressing silence.

Both of us welcomed the attack of two thieves near the bridge.  
They were licensed and armed with huge swords, but new in town - obviously.  
No thief in his right mind tries to rob Assassins.

A few minutes later they were running away with greater speed than they had appeared with.

Chidder chuckled a little.  
"Have I ever told you about my first night as certified Assassin?"  
I shook my head. Couldn´t tell him that I had read all about it with interest, could I?

"Well, Arthur and Teppic – one of my classmates, you haven´t met him yet – and I were a bit drunk. After the celebration, you know. It was a night like this, full of stars, very beautiful…I think…well, I don´t remember everything, but I do remember these guys with their swords…"

I couldn´t blame him for leaving out the part about Teppic´s change and the grass growing wherever his former classmate set his feet. And exaggerating when it came to how many attackers there were and Chidder´s own actions to get rid of them.  
He is a great story-teller (must be genetic) and after a few laughters and one or two sideway glances it finally happened.

We kissed.

-----ooooo-----

It turned out to be the last happy evening for a very long time.

-----ooooo-----

End (of Part 4)


	6. V Cold Fish

Author: Wyrd Sister  
Fandom: Babylon 5  
Disclaimer: I know you know, so I keep it brief: I own nothing apart from Chris and the characters I make up on the way.  
Unfortunately I´m not making money with this story. But presents and cheques (and most of all: reviews) will be gratefully accepted… grin 

Rating: Suitable for all ages - you should be able to cope with a little swearing from time to time - not much, just about the same amount you usually have to deal with on a normal day...

Summary: Dimension travels are possible after all! This time Chris will find out that Bester´s more dangerous than she thought.

* * *

You are about to hear the story of a traveller between worlds, between dimensions that have only one thing in common: All of them had been created by people of this world – my home world, the world you´re living in. My name is Christine, I´m 20 years old and live in Germany. And not long ago I had an experience most people dream of all their lives…**Chris´ Chronicles  
_Journal of a Dimension Traveller_**

Part 5 – Cold Fish

Dr. Franklin let the small scanner run over my arm and studied the computer screen.  
With a satisfied expression he leaned back.  
"Looks like the bone grew together perfectly. Despite all your attempts to break it again."  
I grinned.  
"Hey - I _have_ been careful! But I had to use both arms during first-years´ finals."

The door opened and Michael Garibaldi entered MedLab. He, also, looked quite relaxed today.  
Somehow I´d arrived between episodes, during an unusual quiet period.  
"Good to see you back on board." he greeted me cheerfully, "And in one piece, too!"  
Dr. Franklin was called away by an assistant who obviously had trouble interpreting some results on a pad. I jumped down from the examination table, rolled the sleeve of my shirt back and turned to the Chief of Security.  
"Oh, thank you for having so much confidence in me. I really appreciate it."  
"Well, it was _you_ telling us about this strange school and their…uncommon teaching methods…"  
"It´s not so bad, actually. If you follow the first rule, you can even enjoy your stay."  
"And what´s the first rule?"  
"Don´t get killed."

Garibaldi sneered sarcastically and shook his head.  
"You should think this so-called "school" was illegal."  
"Other dimensions, other customs. Speaking of customs…" I made a big show of glancing around carefully for spies, then slowly reached into my leather bag, "…I have something for you."

Garibaldi eyed the small can suspiciously, before he unscrewed the lid.  
"What´s that?"  
"Take a sniff."  
He did and his eyes widened. Quickly he closed the can again and let it disappear in one of his pockets.  
"Where did you get these? Last time someone was caught with these…plants he was thrown in jail for 6 months."  
"Well, where I come from you can buy them in the supermarket around the corner."  
The Chief sighed with a longing expression.  
"I´ve been born in the wrong time…or dimension for that matter. Thank you."  
"Don´t mention it."

I put the strap over my left shoulder so that the leather bag hung at my right hip and slid from the examination table. "What happened here while I was away?"  
"We had a few problems with pro-Earth groups, but at the moment they seem to be behaving themselves. In fact it´s never been quieter around here. I can´t recall a time when I was able to sleep 8 hours straight a night. Should stop that before I get used to it."

I laughed, waved goodbye to Dr. Franklin and followed Garibaldi out of MedLab.

-----ooooo-----

Neither the Commander nor Susan Ivanova or Michael Garibaldi interrupted me when I told them about the last dimension I´d lived in for nearly 11 months. After describing the Guild system of Ankh-Morpork, the Assassins´ School and how I´d broken my arm falling down the Patrician´s Palace Sinclair only shook his head like Garibaldi before and smiled.

"It sounds like a story out of an old comic book. Assassinating people an accepted profession? A system of controlling crime by legalising it? Hard to believe."

I shrugged.  
"It works on the Disc. Or at least in parts of the world. And the leader of this city-state is particularly cunning. It is said if he was ever thrown to wild beasts he would get them to tear one another apart. I´ve met the Patrician only once, but he´s one of the most fascinating people I´ve ever come across."

Suddenly someone cleared his throat behind me and I turned around in my seat.

A Minbari was standing in the doorway of Sinclair´s office, with a humble expression, hardly looking up.  
"Excuse me, Commander, I didn´t intend to interrupt your conference…"

Sinclair stood up.  
"Ah, Mr. Lennier, I was hoping you´d come by before leaving for Minbar. May I introduce you to Miss Christine Stein. Miss Stein, please meet Mr. Lennier, Ambassador Delenn´s assistant."

I got up as well and nodded.  
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Stein." he said in a serious voice.  
"And to meet you, Mr. Lennier." I smiled back.

"I thought your ship was already gone." Susan said with a frown, "Weren´t you going to take the "Grace"?"  
The young Minbari turned to her and nodded.  
"This is correct. But it seems something has come up and my flight home was postponed."

Since I didn´t want to stick my nose into things not my business (yeah, for once in a lifetime) I took the hint and smiled at Sinclair.  
"Well, I´m sure we can continue our conversation later on, Commander. I have to go and visit Katar anyway – he´d be hurt if I didn´t."

Sinclair nodded.  
"Why don´t you join us for dinner tonight? I´m sure Dr. Franklin and Zack Allen would also be very interested to hear about your school."

"I´d love to, thank you very much."

-----ooooo-----

Garibaldi had been called into the Red Section, but Ivanova accompanied me to the Core Shuttle and into gloomy DownBelow.

On the way down we saw a HomeGuard-stand with brochures and one of the guys standing in front of it thrust a piece of paper in my hand. It said "Let humans be humans. Help earth to get strong again and join HomeGuard today." With disgust I crumpled it together and glanced around for a bin. Finding none I stuffed the paperball into my trouser pocket.

"Why aren´t you throwing them off the station?" I asked Susan.

She growled.  
"I would be the first to send them back home. But since Babylon 5 is the "hub for interstellar commerce and communication" we have to tolerate many people I´d personally rather not see around. These guys are definitely on my top ten list of most disturbing individuals."

She waved her hand as if to scare a fly away.  
"Anyway, where´s Bronx? Since you escaped Bester last time I haven´t seen him around."

I shrugged.  
"No idea. It seems he can travel on his own, not just with me. I´m still trying to find out how he does it, but actually I was so occupied during the past few months that I hardly thought of that."

"Ah, yes, Assassins´ studies."

I heard the sarcastic tone and couldn´t help grinning.  
"Oh come on, Susan, it´s not as bad as you might imagine…"

She turned and held my shoulder.  
"Don´t give me that. "Assassins´ School" pretty much tells it all. I can´t believe you´re taking this…this…course for paid murderers."

I could almost see my headmaster´s face frowning at the expression.  
"Look, life on the Disc is different from this in many ways…and there are certain rules and regulations when it comes to…assassinating people. It´s…sort of…fairer than you probably think."  
"What are you talking about?"  
"Well, Rule number one says you´re not allowed to kill people who aren´t capable of defending themselves. The…clients always get a chance to avoid their fate."  
"Are you telling me an…assignment would be rejected, when the victim is…a child – or disabled, for example?"

"Yes, definitely. No Discworld Assassin would ever dream of killing a child. Well, if the disabled person were rich, though, he or she could afford proper protection. That would be a different case. So there might be a contract, but that´s something that would have to be discussed by the Head of the Guild and his collegues. Basically every client has the chance to survive."

Susan glared at me.  
"How noble. And does your usual Assassin announces his or her attempt to kill someone, once the contract has been signed?"

"Eh…no. The people we´re talking about usually know exactly about the danger they´re living in. It costs so much money to get someone killed that only rich people can afford the Guild´s services anyway. The average Assassin doesn´t kill more than 20 people in their whole life."

"With…what did you say…about 100 students every year, it´s not much comfort."  
"No no, you got that wrong, there are only about 40 or so taking the actual…"Assassin Course" if you want. And only 10 or 15 of them will become Guild members – sometimes even less. The other students only visit the school to get a normal education. It is after all the best on the Disc."

Ivanova shook her head.  
"What a strange place."

I didn´t respond.

Even in my home dimension it is difficult to convince people to read Terry Pratchett´s novels. I mean, honestly: You start explaining your friends about this world – a disc – sitting on the back of four elephants who are standing on the shell of a gigantic turtle…if they´re good friends they start reading the book anyway (and probably get hooked at once), if not, you are the big joke for a couple of weeks for reading childish fairy tales…anyway, it´s even harder to defend the concept when you have actually spent some time in this dimension. You already realized how the mind of people living there works. And after a few months you get so used to their way of life that it´s easy to forget that this particular concept only works in an isolated, unique place and most other people consider it weird at least.

But somehow I´d hoped people living on a space station and getting in contact with so many different alien species and their customs every day would have less trouble to understand.

"What are you doing this for?"

I looked up.  
"What?"  
"This…education. What´s the purpose? I mean you could do so many different things – why Assassins´ School?"

It took me some time to formulate the answer.  
"I need to be able to defend myself, Susan. Especially when I go to so many different places. You know it yourself: A good weapon doesn´t make a fighter, so just picking a few phaser guns or whatever wouldn´t help much. The school has not only weapon training, but helps you develop your wits, which of course is even more valueable. It was the best choice for that matter."

We didn´t talk much more until we arrived at Katar´s bar.

In front of the bright neonsign "Dancing Lobster" Susan excused herself and walked away.

-----ooooo-----

"_Chris!_ Where have you been?!"

I couldn´t respond, because a green tentacle pressed my face against a fat little belly. When I was able to breath again, I saw that Kari, the bartender´s niece, had rescued me from his warm-hearted greeting.

Nodding in her direction, I replied.  
"Uh, just around the block, Katar. How are things going here?"  
"You know, the usual. People come and go, only the faces of the regulars never change."

We chatted a bit of old times.

Kari was busy serving drinks and occassionally punches or slaps when someone made a filthy remark behind her back. Amused I noted that quite a few guys already had a tentacle mark on their faces.

Katar followed my gaze and sighed.  
"First I thought she would drive my customers away, but - funny enough – they´ve all been back so far. The harder she strikes the more they seem to adore her."

The hours flew by and suddenly it was time to meet the Commander and the others in the restaurant. I said good-bye to the bartender and his niece and went out into the dimly-lit corridor to make my way to the Core Shuttle.

I never arrived there.

-----ooooo-----

The moment I walked around the corner of Brown 7, there was a guy in a black coat blocking the corridor.

I stared at him for a moment, but the way his glowing eyes rested on my face made me turn around and walk a few steps back in the direction I´d come from. I stopped cold when I saw the other dark figure, standing only a few metres away, blocking the other side of the corridor.

Before my hand could grab the waterbottle attached to my belt, there was a hissing sound and a sting at my neck.

Then only darkness.

-----ooooo-----

When I opened my eyes the next time, a familiar face was smiling at me.

I didn´t return the smile.

Getting up was impossible, due to the strong metal tubes along both sides of the stretcher I was lying on. My hands and forearms disappeared in these tubes and raising my head I could see my legs had been dealt with the same way.  
  
The strecher was standing in the middle of a lab, surounded by bleeping machines and instruments I´d never seen before. A group of people in white coats was standing in a distance, heads turned towards me and occassionally nodding thoughtfully. I recognised the little badges they were wearing.

Psi-Corps.  
_  
Dammit! And not a single drop of water in sight.  
_  
"Did you have a good sleep?" a cheerful voice next to the stretcher asked.

"Why don´t you drop dead?"  
"But Miss Stein, I´m shocked. Such an expression from a young lady like you? It must be Mr. Garibaldi´s influence, I fear."

I grind my teeth and swallowed the other colourful expressions my mind had come up with. Wouldn´t help much anyway.  
Bester walked around me and sat on a chair by my side.

"If you´re looking for your little bottle – it´s in another lab down the corridor, we´re still analysing the liquid inside."  
This remark cheered me up a bit. The thought of a group of specialists running tests on common tab water was indeed amusing.  
But not for long.  
  
Bester watched my face.  
"You know, it is strange not to be able to read someone´s mind while having a conversation. Ususally the thoughts are so strong, they go right through my block. At least the surface thoughts. Curses and suchlike. It´s refreshing only to see them on your face, without them reaching my mind."

"Why don´t you take your superhuman mind and-"

"Ah." he raised an eyebrow, "It seems the tests are finished. H2O. Fascinating. Where exactly does the blue tunnel lead to?"

"Isn´t there someone calling for you? The squabby little dungeon keeper over there maybe?"

He turned around and smiled.

"That´s Mr. Quire. He is a P12 and nearly as interested in you as I am. But more from the physical point of view. He was the one who found the fish near your ear trumpet. A very…uncommon little creature. It feeds of brainwaves, doesn´t it?"

"Are all Psi-Cops like you or are there actually nice ones, too?"

He sighed.

"Again, I probably have to blame your attitute towards telepaths on some of the staff on Babylon 5. You shouldn´t judge from propaganda others influence you with."

"Right." I gave back calmly, then sharper, "Because your methods speak for themselves. Stuff it, Bester – you _abducted_ me from the station, chained me up in this lab and are going to keep me here till the end of my days…or until you have the information you want. So don´t give me this shit about misunderstood telepaths!"  
  
He smiled a somewhat hurt smile and walked away.  
  
Okay, so they found the babelfish. They won´t cut my head up yet, rather do some tests before. Wow, what a reassuring thought. Anyway, there must be a way to get out of here. They know about the water, but since they have to give me something to drink there should be a chance to flee. If it´s anything containing water I´m out of here soon."  
  
According to Dr. Franklin´s analysis the babelfish should disguise my thoughts from these telepaths in the meantime.  
  
Was there anything around here I could use for my break-out? I bend my head a little and tried to absorb as many details as I could.  
  
The lab was tidy and clean. Or rather "sterile".  
No coffee cups were standing around or posters on the wall, apart from a periodical system. It looked a bit different from the one I´d seen at our chemical lab at school (less empty spaces), but I wasn´t interested in a lesson in chemistry right now.  
  
There was a huge glass window on the left hand side.   
Occasionally someone was walking by and throwing a curious glance into the lab.  
I felt like the star of a freak-show.  
  
No idea what the machines and instruments were for, but somehow I didn´t like the look of them.  
  
There wasn´t much more to see, so I settled down again and relaxed my stiff neck.

-----ooooo-----

Actually they treated me quite well, at least in the beginning.  
"Well" meant no big laser weapons being aimed at my head or red-glowing metal being pressed at parts of my body to get answers for their questions.

They just…ran tests.

They were running tests all the time.  
  
At 4 o´clock in the morning some guy in a white lab coat would come in and take a blood sample. Two hours later someone else would require a hair for a gene test.  
  
Or there would be a couple of people standing in front of the stretcher, just staring at me for ages. But apart from getting a very uncomfortable feeling from that much attention nothing happened and they were forced to leave, looking pretty upset.  
  
After a while it was getting dull.

Not that I wanted this situation to be any more _exciting_, but lying around all day – and night – without being able to move more than 2 inches makes you ichy.  
  
Physically _and_ mentally.  
  
Weird thoughts were entering my mind.

_Do I get a t-shirt afterwards? _"I was kidnapped by the Psi-Corps and all I got was this lousy t-shirt". _I could wear it on SF-conventions._

What if they´ll remove the fish – and decide they need a few of them for their own purposes? They´ll clone another one – and faster as you can say "asexual reproduction" there would be no need for translators in this dimension anymore…

When I die here – is there a chance I get picked up by a 6-foot-skeleton carrying a scythe?  
  
The last thought came around one o´clock in the morning and did nothing for improving my mood. It rather left me pondering about an almost philosophic question: What if there was in fact some sort of "pick-up-service for souls" in my home dimension, similar to the Death-concept on the Discworld? Would they come to other dimensions as well or was I forced to spend the rest of eternity hunting through the corridors of this laboratory?  
  
I already pictured myself as a ghost, an ill-tempered spirit, hovering around the place, rattling my chains and terrorising Psi-Cops.   
  
Only they have to kill me first – and somehow I don´t like this perspective too much.  
  
What was going on with the B5-guys?  
Weren´t they supposed to be heroes?  
They could at least make an attempt to rescue me!  
  
With a sigh I realised that they probably didn´t have the faintest idea where Bester had brought me. And since the series was – compared to other SF-series – quite realistic, I couldn´t expect to see them breaking down the walls of this lab to get me out.  
  
Dammit! I should have leapt into the Star Trek dimension. Things always turn out well there…  
  
Well, as long as the rescue team wasn´t marching in, I would have to think of something myself. Right now a little extra space around arms and legs would already be useful. Calmly I considered my chances for a successful break-out.  
  
The tubes around my limbs where firmly attached to the strecher, so I couldn´t even walk around in the lab, let alone leave it.

"Food" was brought three times a day – consisting of tasteless pills I had to swallow with the content of a papercup - a green liquid that smelled like fertilizer. No H2O was to be brought near me, under no circumstances.  
  
Bribing people to help me getting out was – of course – impossible in a 1984-society where everybody was used to spying on everybody else. Not that I had anything to bribe them with…  
  
I know what you think.

But this idea had been nipped in the bud.

Something like thin tube was collecting every drop of…liquid my body produced and carried it away immediately.  
  
They were probably making more of this green juice from it.  
  
Good grief, was I disgusting!  
  
So what? I´m the one lying in this damned place – I have every right to be as disgusting as I want to be!  
  
Problem No 1: No water in reach. Without H2O I wasn´t able to hop out of this dimension.

Problem No 2: To get water I´d have to get up and search the lab (or rather the neighbour labs since they wouldn´t store any here).   
  
Waiting for a rescue team seemed to be all that was left, at least for now. I thought of Bronx, but since I hadn´t seen him in a few months I wasn´t sure if he was still able to leap on his own.  
  
You could have checked on him before going to the station.  
  
Right, but I hadn´t.

Frustrated I tried again to shake arms and legs, only to feel the cold hardness of the tubes, not moving a single inch.

-----ooooo-----

It was the fifth day of my little journey to "Lunatic Lab" and after the first shock things had become more and more boring.  
Still no way out in sight.  
  
The door slid open and I turned my head to see who was disturbing my peace this time.  
  
It was Bester.  
  
The Psi-Cop walked to the side of the stretcher with a thin smile.  
"I heard you are cooperating."  
I growled.  
"It´s not like I had a choice."  
"That´s true. Still, I am glad you see sense here. Other people would have used all their strength yelling at people and trying to "loosen their chains". I´m glad you´re a reasonable person."  
"What do you want, Bester?"  
He reached for a chair and sat down.  
"I´m here to make you an offer."  
"What sort of offer could that be?"  
"A reasonable one. The Corps is willing to release you, even bring you back to Babylon 5 if you wish, and provide you with a quarter there. In addition to that there will be a moderate financial contribution."  
I couldn´t believe my ears.  
"You mean like a salary? The Psi-Corps is actually offering me a job? That must be a joke."  
Bester´s thin smile broadened.  
"It certainly isn´t. We´d prefer to keep this...arrangement a secret, though. Not even your friends will know about it."  
I would have raised my hand to motion him to stop talking, but of course couldn´t.  
"Wait a moment. What would be my part of this wonderful arrangement, apart from not telling anybody?"  
"Very simple."  
Oh yeah, I bet...  
He reached out and tipped a code into the pad next to the stretcher. With a clicking sound the tubes around my arms and legs opened. Slowly I sat up, collected my limbs and started to massage them, my eyes not leaving those of the Psi-Cop. He leaned back.  
  
"As you know we ran a series of tests in the past few days. Mr. Quire told me this fish in your auditory tube couldn´t be removed without harming its host. He is still working on the problem, but due to my reports about you the officials authorized me to make you the following offer: You would be working for us on a regular basis, independently. You´d be able to live your life as it was before, but would fullfil certain...assignments for the Corps. Meet people, negotiate contracts, that sort of thing."  
  
My head was buzzing.  
"I´ve never done this before."  
"Of course you´d get all the necessary training beforehand."  
  
"Why would you want me to do this?"  
"Do you know why telepaths are part of negotiations, in all sectors?"  
I didn´t have to think long.  
"To make sure the other party is willing to keep their promises, is honest and to find out if they are hiding something."  
He nodded.  
"Correct. Now imagine someone whose mind cannot be read."  
  
I stared at him, feeling like a fool for not understanding right away.  
"You want me to be that person."  
"Right. What do you say?"  
  
No!

Well, that´s what your average neighbourhood hero would say. Or he/she would say "yes" in order to fool the enemy and find a way out.  
  
"Why are you so sure that I wouldn´t leap out of this dimension and never come back?"  
The Psi-Cop chuckled.  
"Oh, we would have to arrange certain precautions. A small device hidden somewhere in your body, that´d explode during a leap."  
  
I nodded.  
Sounded reasonably.  
  
"I´ll have to think about this."  
He stood up.  
"Certainly. I´ll be back by tomorrow morning. Keep in mind that this organisation takes good care of its members."  
  
I didn´t respond and he walked out the door without chaining me again.

-----ooooo-----

It took me a few minutes before I was able to slide from the stretcher.

A glance out of the window showed me that nobody was around.

Apart from a couple of bowls there was nothing in the cupboards. Deep in a drawer of a mobile table behind the stretcher I found a forgotten data crystal and - since the white hospital robe I wore didn´t have any pockets - hid it in my right sock.

There was some sort of air shaft near the ceiling next to the window. With the help of the mobile table I climbed up and tried to open it.

It didn´t move an inch.

I climbed down again and - out of frustration - kicked the stretcher as hard as I could. Pain shot through my right angle and cursing I jumped back and leaned against the wall to rip the sock off.

The little data crystal fell on the floor.

Blood smears were all over it. Somehow I´d managed to cut my angle with it.

Well done! You don´t even need Psi-Cops, you get in trouble without help. Just wait another 10 minutes - you´ll probably find a rope with which you hang yourself while trying to break out!

This was ridiculous: There I was, a student at the famous (or rather "infamous") School of Assassins on Discworld (see "Chris´ Chronicles, A Disworld Experience"), and I couldn´t even get out of a little lab.

Well, of course my teachers on the Disc had never seen an electronic lock...but this was about the spirit - and "giving up" was definitely _not_ the way of an Assassin.

I picked the crystal up, stumbled over to the stretcher and examined the scratch. It wasn´t long, but deep - the blood was still running over my foot.

Something about it was weird, though. It was dark, almost purple. _  
Maybe because of the food…_

While cleaning the cut with my sock I thought of a possibility to get away in one piece.

I don´t have much time. They´ll put me into this stretcher thing soon enough. But what can I do anyway? The door and the shaft are locked; leaping´s impossible and Bester won´t do me the favour of letting his guard down. Maybe I should sign his contract - at least I´d be free…

But freedom would be an illusion and did I really want to spend the rest of my life in this dimension? Only a few years from now, there would be war here and unfortunately I hadn´t paid that much attention to the show to say exactly what would happen at what point of B5-history.

No! This is NOT going to happen! I am not going to let them win! I´m not some kid they can scare…  
Suddenly the door opened again and two huge guys in white jumpers walked in.  
_…on the other hand - only the fool claims he´s never afraid…_

The bodybuilders were followed by the "squabby dungeon keeper" I´d met earlier.  
Quire smiled a professional smile, which looked a bit strained.  
"Please keep your seat - there is one last test I´d like to run before the authorities decide what to do with you."

He went over to the mobile table and placed a device on it.  
Suspiciously I watched him and his gorillas, but especially the little machine that looked like an answering machine.  
"I don´t understand - Bester told me…"

"Mr. Bester is a competent member of this organisation, but even he doesn´t know everything…or everybody for that matter. Now if you please lie down again…"

For a brief moment I considered kicking one of the bodybuilders in the guts and run for it, but the crowd of lab assistants gathering in front of the window made me re-consider. There was no chance to get away; I would only make a fool out of myself.  
Instead I allowed them to lead me over to the stretcher and close the tubes around my arms. With a wave of his hand Quire then sent the gorillas away and walked closer to me, but - unfortunately - was smart enough to keep out of reach of my legs.

"I may have found the answer to the questions your appearance raised. This device here is programmed to separate your brainwaves from those of the creature. We´ll see how long you´ll be able to resist a complete scan once your little friend doesn´t hold the shield up anymore."

With growing fear I watched him turning the instrument on and pushing various buttons.

Suddenly my ears went plong - like it happens when you´re scuba diving - and my head began to hurt.  
_Oh Bronx, I wish you were here! You would tear these guys apart in seconds._

But again nothing happened. My blue pal didn´t jump in to save the day.

I saw into the faces of the telepaths while the pain in my head grew.  
The guys out in the hallway looked excited, but Quire had the eyes of a fanatic. Growling he adjusted the settings again and again.

All of a sudden the door opened with its usual hiss and Bester stood in the doorway.  
"I wasn´t aware you had permission to…interfere, Mr. Quire."

This was the first time his appearance made me happy.

Well, almost.

Quire turned around and waved impatiently.  
"I know about your plans with the girl, but you´ll have to wait. This is more important. In a few moments we might be able to tell where she comes from!"

Bester raised his eyebrow and smiled.  
It was the sort of smile that made you want to run away as fast as possible and I felt that Quire had just made a very dangerous enemy.

This didn´t help me much, though, because instead of killing the guy on the spot (as I had hoped) Bester only nodded slightly and stepped back into a corner of the room.

Quire continued his work until I saw blue spots in front of my eyes.  
The headache was almost unbearable now and my ear began to itch.  
_He won´t stop!_ I realized, _He´ll go on until my head explodes!_

Since I´d started travelling, I had never been so full of panic.

I felt as if someone had opened my skull and was stirring my brain with a mixer.  
The blue spots changed, became red, then purple and grew bigger.  
A shrieking noise rang in my ears. Apparently the babelfish didn´t like this treatment either.

When I couldn´t take it any longer and cried out in pain, _something_ changed.

A breeze blew through the room and the lights began to flicker.

Loud voices came from outside and with all the strength I could muster I opened my eyes. The tunnel had appeared right over one of the cupboards on the other side of the lab. A growling blue gargoyle jumped into the room and immediately attacked Quire. The telepath bounced against the window, the crowd of young lab assistants outside jumped back and vanished around a corner.

I fought the tubes around my arms, but without success.

Bronx´ head appeared at the side of the stretcher. His teeth digged into the tube and tore it out of the metal base.  
"Ouch. Careful, my friend." Quickly I got rid of the tube and opened the other one with my free hand.

The headache was getting worse.  
Glancing around the room I saw Bester holding the device that was causing my discomfort.

"Hey! Stop it!"

He turned a wheel and something exploded in my head.

A push against the hip brought me nearer to the tunnel. With Bronx´ help I managed to climb the table and felt the wind sucking me into the dimension portal.

I only had to let go...jump back home...have a nice hot shower and forget about travelling and foreign dimension politics for a while...

But not without Bronx!

One hand pressed against my forehead I yelled his name over my shoulder. The black mist before my eyes thickened, the wind grew stronger.  
I could hardly hold on anymore.

"BRONX!"

Two laser beams cut through the mist and a wailing noise indicated that they had hit their target.  
Cursing I turned around and pushed myself away from the portal, but the wind was too strong.  
Suddenly Bester appeared in front of me.  
With a startled cry I stumbled back - the wind embraced my body, pulling me right into the tunnel.

Last thing I saw was Bester´s strained face and his gloved hand trying to keep me from leaving this dimension. A feeling similar to the suction from the portal went through my mind.

Then everything went black.

-----ooooo-----

End (of Part 5)


	7. VI Amnesia

Author: Wyrd Sister  
Fandom: X-Men  
Disclaimer: I know you know, so I keep it brief: I own nothing apart from Chris and the characters I make up on the way.  
Unfortunately I´m not making money with this story. But presents and cheques (and most of all: reviews) will be gratefully accepted… grin 

Rating: Suitable for all ages - you should be able to cope with a little swearing from time to time - not much, just about the same amount you usually have to deal with on a normal day...

Summary: Dimension travels are possible after all! This time Chris will find out that Bester´s more dangerous than she thought.

* * *

You are about to hear the story of a traveller between worlds, between dimensions that have only one thing in common: All of them had been created by people of this world - my home world, the world you´re living in. My name is Christine, I´m 20 years old and live in Germany. And not long ago I had an experience most people dream of all their lives.  
  
**Chris´ Chronicles  
_Journal of a Dimension Traveller_**Part 6 - Amnesia  
  
The smell of steel and hospital was in my nose when I woke up. I heard quiet bleeping noises around me, nothing else.  
With a start I sat upright.  
Despite the headache that hit me straight away I forced my gaze to wander through the room quickly.  
I was lying on an examination table in the center of a medium-sized square-shaped room stuffed with electronic. A cap with thin wires on my head seemed to be connected to a computer next to the table and hummed a little.  
_Where am I?!  
_A scientists´ lab, without doubt.   
  
Friends or foes?  
  
I didn´t intend to stay long enough to find that out - better get away first and ask questions later.  
With one quick movement I got rid of the cap and slid from the table. The humming turned into an unnerving bleep.  
The white cotton night-gown felt strange on my skin when I started to run to the door. For a moment a huge silver X blurred before my eyes, but then my vision got clear again and I raced through the opening.  
  
I nearly ran into a brown haired man wearing red sunglasses.  
  
Just in time I moved to the side to avoid his outstretched hand, leapt around a corner and shot into a well-lit corridor.  
The man shouted something, but I didn´t pay attention. All I wanted was getting out of this place.  
A lab indeed.  
A huge complex.  
Corridors leading into other corridors, all of them looking alike.  
_A bloody labyrinth.  
_  
There were footsteps behind me, apparently the man had come to his senses and tried to catch me now. I increased my speed. There had to be an exit somewhere!  
What was this deserted place? A secret laboratory? For what? And what was I doing here?  
Before I could think about that any further I ran around the next corner and...into a dead-end.  
The footsteps became louder and looking around frantically I saw a door opening next to me. Without thinking I jumped into the small room and the door closed again. The feeling of an elevator being set in motion reached my stomach.  
  
I crouched next to the door and prepared myself to jump out as soon as the doors opened next time. I didn´t have to wait long.  
  
With a gentle hiss they slid apart and I hopped out, right behind a wooden column. There I stopped to take a look at my surroundings.  
They certainly had changed.  
The sterile laboratory corridor had been replaced by the basement of a Victorian mansion.  
Dark wood panels, plants and carpets.  
A difference like night and day.  
  
And not too far away, at the end of the hallway, a huge door surely leading outside.  
  
Quickly I marched around the column, ran in the direction of this door - and with full force into a guy who was just coming down the stairs to my right.  
With a surprised cry I jumped back.  
  
Startled, the dark-haired man whirled around. I heard a sound like knives being dragged and saw three blades coming out between the knuckles of his fists.  
He stood in front of me, one hand raised to his chest, the other one at his side, his dark eyes holding my gaze for a moment, before he let out a surprised grunt.  
His body relaxed, the frown disappeared and the blades went back where they´d come from.  
  
I was still staring at him.  
It wasn´t because of the blades.  
Not even because of his ready-to-fight appearance.  
It was because I had seen him before.  
He looked familiar.  
  
You should think a guy like him (even without the blades) would be easy enough to remember.  
But I didn´t know where to put him.  
I was almost certain that his name started with a "W" though.  
  
"Logan!" came a voice from behind - the man with the sunglasses had appeared someplace near the front door. "Would you mind bringing our...guest back to the lab, please?"  
  
_Dammit!  
_  
With these two guys blocking the corridor there was only one way left.  
  
Cursing quietly under my breath I side-stepped the man called Logan, stormed up the stairs and reached the first floor. It looked almost like the basement - the same long, empty corridor with doors on either side, but with a huge open window where the front door had been downstairs.  
  
Suddenly a door to my left opened and a group of kids came out, teenagers around 14 years of age. They stopped and stared at me open-mouthed - they probably don´t often see girls in long white night-gowns roaming the corridors. Quick footsteps from below became louder, the man with the sunglasses came around the corner and stopped halfway up the stairs, with Logan at his heels.  
  
Before I could decide to take the next staircase and run further up a woman with long white hair came down the steps. She, too, stopped halfway and looked at me curiously.  
  
Again there was only one way left.  
  
I heard a few gasps when I turned towards the open window and broke into a run.  
The opening grew bigger and bigger before my eyes, then I stepped onto the sill and jumped out.

-----ooooo-----

Instinct took over immediately.  
My right hand grabbed the window frame, the momentum made me crash against the house wall and pushed the air out of my lungs. The other hand found a piece of stone to clung to and with as much power as I could gather I began climbing up the wall of the old mansion, taking advantage of every little hole on the way, any little stone sticking out. With bare feet it wasn´t as difficult as it may sound.  
  
On the roof I hid between two huge chimneys and waited for my pursuers to follow.  
A few times my hand wandered down to my trembling ankle, to a weapon that wasn´t there. Instead I found a fresh bandage. The wound under it had already closed.  
  
After half an hour - daylight was already fading - I moved into a more comfortable position, but remained alert, keeping my gaze on the few spots where someone could come through to get me. Another half hour later my left foot fell asleep.  
  
40 minutes after that the rest of my body followed.

-----ooooo-----

A gentle breeze blew over my face when I awoke.  
  
It was dark around me, only the moon was shining on my surroundings and for a moment the feeling of disorientation was overwhelming. But the warm chimney next to my shoulder brought the memory of the past events back and quickly I got up.  
Was there a chance that these people - whoever they where - had forgotten about my presence?   
But the figure sitting only a few metres from my position shattered all hopes of an unnoticed departure.  
Her white hair fluttered in the cool wind and she looked at me the same way she had on the stairs earlier: With a mixture of curiosity and wariness. But she gave me a smile that at least looked genuinely.  
"Hello."  
I glanced around the shadows on the roof, but couldn´t see any more people. If she was here to bring me back on her own she certainly underestimated my condition.  
If used wisely fear can be a strong ally in a fight.  
_Where did this come from?_ a part of my mind asked confused.   
The woman hadn´t moved, was still eyeing me from a distance.  
"Hello." I replied eventually.  
My voice sounded strange in the silence of the rooftop.  
  
The woman´s smile broadened and slowly she stepped nearer. I forced myself not to move, but another part of my mind automatically noted the lack of weapons on either side, made a list of pressure points that could come in handy should she decide to attack, and suggested an escape route from the rooftop.  
Only two metres in front of me the woman stopped and extended a hand. Suddenly the feeling I´d had earlier, when seeing Logan, hit me again. She seemed familiar somehow, although I couldn´t remember having met her.  
"My name is Ororo Monroe. Welcome to Xavier´s School for Gifted Youngsters."  
Expression blank I stared at her.  
"Where?"  
Now _she_ looked a bit confused.  
"Xavier´s School for Gifted Youngsters. The kids also call this place "Mutant High"."  
Slowly - because of the headache getting worse - I shook my head.  
"Doesn´t ring a bell. How did I get here?"  
She let her hand sink and sat onto one of the smaller chimneys.  
"You don´t remember?"  
"No."  
  
Suspiciously she examined me head to toe.  
"What´s your name?"  
Now that was an easy one.  
Or so I thought.  
  
The headache grew stronger and with two fingers rubbing my right temple the answer finally popped up.  
"Chris."  
"Just Chris?"  
My fingers continued the gentle massage, but there was nothing else.  
"I.don´t remember."  
No idea if she bought that, but the woman nodded and smiled again.  
"That´s okay. What about if you came down with me, Chris? We could have tea while talking things over. Professor Xavier - the headmaster of the school - just returned from town and would like to meet you."  
I frowned.  
"Do I have a choice?"  
Her gaze never left mine.  
"Of course. There´s always a choice."  
  
An attack was one thing.  
An invitation another.  
Logic helped me with the decision.   
If she had actually wanted to bring me back to the lab she could have asked the two men for help or - even easier - grab and anaesthetise me while I was still sleeping. From the equipment I´d seen in the lab drugs couldn´t be a problem.  
Instead she had waited for me to wake up and given me a warm welcome.  
  
Apart from all these facts there was my own curiosity.  
How had I come here?  
What was this school - "Mutant High"?  
  
And where did this feeling come from?  
The feeling that I´d seen some of these people before?  
That I knew this place?  
  
And the most important questions: Why was it so hard for me to remember what had happened before this afternoon?   
Where did this awful headache come from?  
How come I´d forgotten my own name?  
  
The woman who had introduced herself as Ororo Monroe waited patiently while I was juggling with fear, doubts and curiosity.  
_Curiosity killed the cat._ the voice of a careful part of my mind told me.   
_Right._ another part mused, _But satisfaction brought her back._  
  
I nodded and she stood up. A few meters further east, in the midst of a forest of chimneys an open oriel window led back into the mansion. 

-----ooooo-----

They watched me sipping the hot soup.  
I finished, put the bowl back onto the wooden desk and looked up.  
"Feeling better?" the red-haired woman (Jean Grey, I remembered) asked and silently I nodded. I still wasn´t sure what I was doing here and so far nobody had explained anything.  
The bald man behind the desk cleared his throat. When I´d seen Professor Xavier for the first time I´d had a sudden vision of him in some kind of red and black pyjama-like uniform. No idea how to explain this, so I´d just kept my mouth shut. The inquisitive glance he´d given me had probably referred to my clothing. Jean had given me a bathrobe that was slightly too large, but nice and warm. I pulled my knees towards my chest and tugged it around me. Then I crossed my arms on my knees and placed my head on them, looking at the Professor. He wheeled around the desk and stopped in front of my chair.  
"Let´s start again, shall we?" he suggested and glanced at the man with the sunglasses (Scott something), who stepped forward.  
"Marie saw a blue flash out in the garden. When she went out to examine the phenomenon she nearly stumbled over...our guest lying near the forest, unconsciously. Jean´s examination showed no sign of a mutant gene in her body. Nevertheless she was found in a place nobody can normally reach without being spotted by the surveillance cameras."  
_"She?" Excuse me? I´m still in the room!_ I thought and gave Scott a sharp glance which he ignored. He was probably still annoyed about the fact that he´d "lost" me down in the lab.  
Xavier turned to me again.  
"And you don´t recall what happened?"  
I shrugged.  
"It took me a while to remember my own name. But...I don´t know."   
The bald man gave me a reassuring smile and so I added what I´d felt about this place (and some of the people here) straight away.  
"...I look around here and feel I know this school. The building, even this office...and Miss Monroe, you, Professor, and....this guy I ran into in the corridor....Logan."  
Scott sneered.  
"And what´s your explanation for this...feeling?"  
I turned my head and glared at him.  
"Do you have a problem with me?"  
  
Before he could respond, the professor raised his hand.  
"Please, everybody calm down. It´s late and we´re all tired. Why don´t we go to bed and continue tomorrow..."  
Scott mumbled something and walked to the door, followed by a puzzled Jean Grey. Suddenly the door opened and Logan came in. He stepped to the side to let the couple pass, looked after them and finally closed the door again.  
"What´s up with him? Anyone stole his motorbike?" he joked.  
Ororo shrugged and put a hand on my shoulder.  
"You want to come with me? There´s a free bedroom upstairs."  
Gratefully I hopped off the chair.  
When we passed Logan, there was another vision. A name this time.  
  
"Wolverine."  
  
The hand on my shoulder vanished.  
"What?"  
I turned around and saw them staring at me in shock.   
Obviously, I had spoken aloud.  
Oops.  
_Okay, then we should probably get over with it quickly.  
_  
"Wolverine. That´s your name, isn´t it?"  
The dark-haired man nodded slowly, then looked at Xavier with a raised eyebrow.  
"Telepathic?"  
Xavier shook his head.  
"No. I would have sensed it."  
With an curious expression he rolled nearer.  
"A memory fragment. Interesting. Do you remember more? Scott Summer´s mutant name, for example?"  
Scratching my head and imaging the face of the man didn´t work.   
_"Glasses"? "Specs"? "Mr. Cool"? Or, for that matter: "Mr. Good-manners-are-for-losers"?_  
"No. Nothing."  
"What about Miss Monroe?"  
I focused on the beautiful white-haired woman, standing in the corner of the office, then closed my eyes. Pictured her under the night sky, wind playing with her hair like it had up on the roof. Not only wind, more like a...  
  
"Storm."  
  
My eyes flew open again and found her exchanging glances with Logan and Professor Xavier, then her gaze returned to me.  
"What about the professor?"  
They watched me walking back to the chair in front of the desk and leaning against the armrest. It was harder to concentrate now. The pictures that flew through my head were different.  
There were more and half of them showed the man walking around.  
And with hair, for that matter.   
Strange.  
But there was a tiny piece of information, a scene similar to the present situation. Another guy talking names in this very room. Musing about them.  
Confused I looked up, then the word slipped out of my mouth.  
  
"Wheels?"

-----ooooo-----

This time the silence was overwhelming.

Feeling my head turning red like a tomato I stammered an apology.  
"Sorry, professor, I meant no offence. Somehow it just…popped up…"  
The man in the wheelchair raised his hand again and, relieved, I saw him smiling.  
"None taken. Relax. It was just…unexpected to hear it again."  
With this he glanced at Logan who had found a fascinating spot on the carpet he couldn´t take his eyes away from.  
  
Again I wondered what had happened to my mind.  
  
Maybe I was becoming crazy.  
Maybe all these things around me were just pictures of my mind - creations of a mental.  
Maybe reality was a little cell with white, soft walls and people in sneakers speaking in low voices.  
  
_Well, if that´s true I rather stay here.  
_

-----ooooo-----

The room Storm had led me to was small, but comfortable. There was a mirror on the wall next to the bed and when my guide was gone I took a look into it.  
  
A gruesome sight.  
  
Pale face, huge, possum-like eyes and dark shadows underneath.  
_At the moment I would make good money as a zombie in a theme park ghost house.  
_  
Now look at that: Only just arrived, but already found a job opportunity.  
The thought cheered me up a little and I turned around to examine the rest of the room.  
  
It had a bed and - thank goodness - a shower.  
  
I only came out of the small bathroom again when I was red like a lobster and feared people would send a search party after me. But no one checked and after dressing in the soft pyjama that was lying on the cupboard I fell into bed.  
  
No dreams disturbed my sleep that night.

-----ooooo-----

A knock on the door awoke me.  
"Y…yes?" I managed, sitting up and looking around in confusion.  
The door opened and a white-haired woman stuck her head in. Missing pieces fell into place and suddenly I remembered the previous day.   
  
Unfortunately _only_ the previous day.  
  
"Hello. The professor asked me to wake you. Are you hungry?"  
The question went to my stomach without bothering the brain.  
"Starving."  
I jumped out of bed and glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand.  
"6 o´clock? Does the day here always start that early?"  
  
There was a pause.  
"Take a closer look." came the mild reply.  
Puzzled, I obeyed.  
_5:57 pm. PM?!  
_"It´s 6 o´clock in the evening?!"  
Storm grinned.  
"You slept almost 20 hours straight. See if you find something in the cupboard that fits. Dinner starts in half an hour. I´ll see you downstairs."  
Then she was gone.

-----ooooo-----

Was it paranoia or was indeed everybody staring at me?  
  
I finished my meal quickly and glanced over my shoulder. A few heads turned, but others stayed and most of their owners eyed me with a mix of curiosity and…I don´t know…mild confusion? On other faces there was open hostility.  
I kept on staring back provocatively till these guys decided to turn back as well. Only one girl held my gaze and - suddenly - broke into a smile.  
Surprised I found myself smiling back.  
  
She made a gesture towards the door and stood up. I followed her out the door and into the corridor, where she offered me her hand. Shaking it I saw that she was wearing gloves.  
"Hi. I´m Rogue."  
I grinned.  
"You don´t look like one."  
She gave me an inquisitive glance, but seemed to decide I was only kidding.  
"My real name is Marie."  
"Chris."  
"I know. I found you."  
"After seeing a blue light. I heard from Scott Summers. Do you know anything else about this light?"  
"The professor asked the same question. No, I only saw it from a distance. Just a blue flash or something. You really can´t remember who you are?"  
"Nope. Only my first name. And little bits and pieces. Far from being useful most of the time. For example: I know I´ve dived before. I´m familiar with diving tables. Can calculate nitrogen time and have a clear picture of how to put the gear together. But no memory of any diving sites. I know English is not my native language - it´s German. No memory of an area or city though. That kinda stuff. Someone must have tempered with my brain - Miss Grey said she found some strange stuff in my ear trumpet."  
  
The girl frowned.  
"Weird. Couldn´t the professor help you?"  
"How?"  
"Well, you know…" she tipped a finger against her forehead, "…with his telepathic powers."  
  
This remark made my head buzz.  
_Telepathic powers? Prof. Xavier is a telepath? But…but…telepaths are bad!  
_  
Suddenly it was like watching two people having an argument.  
One part of my brain wanted to leave the place at once.  
The other one asked in surprise how it could possibly have forgotten the fact that Xavier was a telepath. It even was quite comfortable with this fact.  
Which one was the truth?  
  
"Ah, Chris, you met Marie already. Would you both mind coming down to the lab to clarify a few things?" the bald man in the wheelchair asked and rolled past us towards the hidden elevator.  
  
My headache started again, worse than before.

-----ooooo-----

The doors opened with the usual hiss and Professor Xavier and Rogue walked out.  
I didn´t move.  
My feet just…didn´t step out into the corridor.  
Didn´t want to go into the lab again.  
Didn´t even want to leave the elevator.  
Sweat appeared on my forehead and my fingers began to tremble.  
  
The mutants in front of me turned around.  
Rogue raised an eyebrow.  
"What are you waiting for?"  
Xavier´s gaze met mine and I shook my head slowly, then suddenly felt the wall of the elevator in my back and a lump in my throat.  
"I´m…sorry. I´m not coming. Not into…the lab."  
  
After a moment the bald man nodded, not surprised at all.  
"Very well."  
And rolling back, "Then how about we´ll do the talking in my office?"

-----ooooo-----

Back in the comfortable seats in front of the desk Rogue turned to me again.  
"What happened down there? Are you claustrophobic or something?"  
I shifted in my seat and looked around uncomfortably.  
"No…not that I know of. I just didn´t want to go into the lab again. Kind of…bad feeling about that…no idea why."  
_Bad feeling? That was 100 % panic. Maybe I was a laboratory rat in a former life._

The thought didn´t amuse me one bit, but left a rather…unpleasant taste in my mouth.  
Professor Xavier raised an eyebrow.  
"Chris…" he began and we turned towards his thoughtful gaze.  
"Would you allow me to scan your mind?"  
_NO!! No way!!  
_The force of this refusal - although the outcry was only in my head - was overwhelming. I jumped up and backed away, in the direction of the door.  
My shoulders bumped into the carved wood.  
"I don´t want to be scanned!"  
Rogue and Xavier exchanged glances, then the professor raised his hands in a calming gesture as he had earlier.  
"Nobody´s going to force you. I just want you to think about it. We might be able to learn who you are and what brought you here."  
"No! I don´t want anybody in my head! It´s too crowded in there already!"  
The headache returned and from a distance a concerned female voice asked if I was okay.  
I don´t remember Rogue leading me back to the bedroom, but suddenly there was a cold cloth on my forehead and I drifted into a restless sleep.

-----ooooo-----

The clock showed 00:42 am.  
Groaning I rolled out of bed.  
  
Too much sleep lately - now I probably had to stay awake for a couple of hours before I would be drowsy enough to drop off again.  
I decided to get some fresh air and opened the window.  
An instant later I was up on the roof.  
_Where did I learn all these climbing technics?_ I wondered, but was soon distracted by the beautiful view you have from the roof of the old mansion. The lights of the city shone far away and the forest looked dark and mysterious.  
_If I was 10 years old I´d be tempted to explore it.  
_  
Yeah, sure. Right now I didn´t even know what I´d done a week ago, let alone a couple of years.  
  
_What if the professor scanned my mind? What could possibly happen?  
Telepaths are not to be trusted!  
That´s not true. He´s one of the good guys. I know it.  
Telepaths are bad! They play around with your mind, influence it, make you do what they want, make you think what they want…  
How do you know? Where does this come from?  
It´s true. And you know it, too._  
  
And - weird enough - I did. I felt it was true, but how could both sides be?  
  
After a desperate attempt to remember that only helped increasing the pain of the headache I turned around and crept back to the side of the building.  
On my way down I passed several dormitories, a kitchen - and a library. Sleep wouldn´t come for some time, so why not grabbing a good book?  
The window was locked, but the latch simple and easy to open.  
I hopped into a room filled with bookshelves and listened for a minute, but everything stayed quiet.  
  
A well equipped library awaited me.   
Unfortunately, a school library.  
  
_Shakespeare, Mann, Goethe - heaps of books about science and math and poetry. Where do they keep the pleasure stuff? Oh…here comes Mr. Twain - it´s getting warmer…  
_  
Eventually I found some short stories by Roald Dahl and settled into a comfortable chair next to a lamp, not too far from the window. But I couldn´t really concentrate on the book, with all my thoughts circling around the past events.  
  
After half an hour there was a noise on the corridor.  
  
Quickly and quietly I turned the lights out, stood up and found the space where the book had been. When I was just about to step onto the window sill the door opened.  
I could have swung out using the downsprout, but something held me back.  
There was a noise like rubber on a wooden floor and suddenly the lights were on again and I saw Professor Xavier wheeling into the library.  
He still wore the same suit he´d had on the previous evening.  
_Does this man ever sleep?_ I wondered briefly.  
"Occasionally. But I tend to catch up with the paperwork in the late evening, when it´s quieter." the man in the wheelchair smiled.  
  
It took me a moment to realise that he´d read my mind.  
"It wasn´t on purpose, I assure you. But most people have rather…loud surface thoughts, so it´s impossible not to hear them. I didn´t scan you."  
  
He came nearer and threw a glance at the rather hastily stowed away book.  
"Roald Dahl? Very subtle kind of stories. Most of them with a surprising and rather intense ending. Storm sometimes uses his books in English lessons."  
  
I didn´t reply and the moment of silence grew longer.  
  
"I apologise for Scott Summer´s behaviour yesterday."  
  
Surprised I looked up.  
"What?"  
  
"It´s never been the policy of this school to meet anyone with mistrust. But the last week had been hard for him."  
I relaxed a bit and settled down on the window sill.  
"What happened?"  
  
"He went out to bring a kid - a mutant - here. Other people had found the girl before him."  
  
I swallowed hard and didn´t dare asking more, but the professor went on as if he´d forgotten my presence.  
"They call themselves "Friends of Mankind", a group openly fighting mutants. They claim mutants have no right to exist and every child that has the gene should be killed immediately."  
"Nazis." I muttered.  
  
Xavier looked up.  
"Similar to these mislead people, yes. Scott found only her body. At the moment he´s trying to figure out his feelings towards "normal" people."  
  
Grimly I shook my head.  
"And my own behaviour didn´t help either, did it?"  
  
The professor smiled.  
"You didn´t know."  
  
I sighed.  
"No. And I feel I don´t know anything anymore. It´s frustrating."  
  
There was a moment of silence, while I was studying the carpet, then I heard the sound of the wheelchair rolling nearer.  
"Do you feel you can trust me?"  
  
I met his searching glance and waited for the voices in my head to start screaming again, but everything stayed quiet.  
  
This wasn´t about telepaths.  
It was only about him.  
Did I trust him?  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Very well. I would like to take a look inside your head - with your guiding me. Would you allow that?"  
"How does this work?"  
"We go together and you can call the "trip" off whenever you want."  
  
Scratching my head I thought about the alternative.  
Waiting until my memories came back by themselves? Could take ages.  
But did I want to let anyone inside my head?  
No.  
On the other hand I longed to find out what was going on. Who wouldn´t, in my position?  
  
In the end I just threw all doubts over board and nodded.

-----ooooo-----

_What a dump.  
_  
An amused voice spoke next to me.  
"Welcome to your mind."  
  
I turned to the man standing (uh…yes, actually "standing") at my side.  
"That´s my mind? I expected it to be a little…brighter…"  
  
The sight was indeed not very pleasant.  
Dark clouds.  
Strong wind.  
Occasional thunder.  
And the area looked like a spaceship cemetery.  
Huge metal parts were sticking out of the sandy ground, some rusty, some shining - but most of them broken.  
There were red mountains in a distance, yellow clouds hung around them.  
Lightning shone through from time to time.  
  
_Maybe I´m a mass murderer or something…  
_"No, only confused. And as far as I can see you grow angry when you´re confused…or frightened."  
"Never get frightened - get angry instead." I slowly recited the saying I knew only too well, but couldn´t come up with the person who´d said it.  
  
"Do you want to stop?"  
"No. Please continue."  
"Can you see anything around here you remember?"  
  
My gaze wandered over the pathetic sight.  
"Nothing. Can we go closer?"  
"Certainly."  
  
We didn´t have to walk long.  
A round piece of metal was blocking our way after a couple of steps. The label said "BAB…", the rest was illegible.  
I felt the smooth material and shuddered.  
"There is something: The feeling of excitement……a fight……friends."  
_Great, now you sound like a fortune teller. "You´ll meet a dark-haired stranger…"-kinda thing.  
_  
The professor threw an interested glance at the metal piece and especially the label.  
"You´re doing well. Go on."  
  
We walked around the arch.  
On the other side was a gigantic hourglass half-buried in the sandy ground.  
  
And next to it stood a tall figure in a long, black coat.  
  
The coat fluttered in the wind.   
Suddenly the hood flew back and a white skull appeared where the head should have been.  
The figure raised one hand and I saw it held a scythe. The bones of the other hand pointed at the hourglass, then towards me.  
A moment later the figure vanished in a grey cloud.  
  
I turned to Xavier.  
"Can you explain this, professor?"  
  
He shook his head slowly.  
"Amazing. It seems parts of your mind are still capable of remembering and try to express these memories. But something keeps them from reaching their destination, the area where they could be processed. Concentrate on the picture you just saw. Try to remember what it means."  
  
I tried and something happened.  
  
There was a puff and a short man in a black uniform appeared in front of us. Another familiar face, but I´d be damned if I knew who it was.  
  
Lightning ran over the sky and thunder rolled.  
  
"This is a restricted area, accessible only for members of the Psi-Corps. Please state your name and identification number."  
  
This time there was surprise in Xavier´s gaze.  
"I´ve never heard of a group named Psi-Corps. But it seems we found the root of your problem."  
  
I walked around the uniformed man.  
"You think this guy is responsible for my…condition?"  
  
"This is merely a picture, left in your mind to prevent telepaths - and yourself - from accessing your memories. But I wouldn´t be surprised if the man who did this to you matched this picture."  
  
I tried to touch the shoulder of the short guy, but my hand went through.  
Same with the head.  
Not even the metal piece I tried it with brought any results.  
And it hadn´t been for the lack of force.  
Or the lack of repetition for that matter.  
  
Panting I turned to the professor.  
"Can you…knock him out?"  
  
Xavier stepped in front of the uniformed man.  
"I can try."  
  
His eyes narrowed in concentration.   
  
A moment later I felt as if a glowing piece of iron was being pushed into my brain.

-----ooooo-----

Gasping for air I jumped out of the chair, hand on the forehead.  
"Freaking HELL! What was that?!"  
Xavier opened his eyes and sat back.  
"I´m sorry, I should have foreseen this. It seems that the other telepath set some kind of trap for whoever tried to access your mind."  
When my brain didn´t feel like it was burning through my forehead anymore I took the hand away.  
"That´s some trap. Dammit! It felt like someone was filling my head with acid."  
Xavier nodded.  
"A very effective defence. At least if the person you deal with is more interested in your well-being than in the information buried up there."  
"Can you switch it off?"  
"I´m not sure. Usually these "traps" are password protected. If you would see a certain picture or hear a certain phrase the barrier would break automatically."  
"How do we find out what it is?"  
  
Xavier waved towards the chair and I sat down again. He reached for my hand.  
"We´ll ask the dungeon keeper."

-----ooooo-----

"Remember Bronx."  
  
I stood in front of the mental picture with a stupid expression.  
"Remember Bronx? What´s this supposed to mean?"  
  
Xavier lifted his shoulders helplessly.  
"I don´t know. Enough mysteries for one night. We´ll think about it tomorrow."  
  
This time coming back didn´t come as a shock. It was rather a smooth (and painless) slide into reality.  
I rubbed my eyes and yawned.  
  
"Do you want me to bring you back to your room?" Xavier asked with a smile, "Or will you be able to find the window on your own?"  
  
Grinning I stepped onto the window sill.  
"Thanks, professor, I´m sure I´ll find it."

-----ooooo-----

"Bronx? Like in the city suburb?"  
"Maybe. The exact words were "Remember Bronx". And since we´re in New York it´s a pretty good guess."  
"But what about Bronx? A certain place? A statue? A person living there somewhere?"  
  
Xavier reached for the street map on his desk and tossed it to Scott Summers.  
"I don´t know. It might be a wrong turn altogether. But I would appreciate if you tried. Just drive through the area, stop at a few sights, let Chris take a good look around."  
  
Uncomfortably I shifted in my seat.  
"Maybe that´s not a good idea. I mean there are endless possibilities. We could be there all day, not finding a single clue…"  
_And spending a whole day with this guy will certainly feel like hell for both of us. Oh, professor, why are you sending me with _him_ of all people?  
_  
The dark brown eyes seemed to see all the way to my soul.  
"We´ll talk about the results of this journey upon your return. Take the BMW."  
With this Xavier rolled back to his desk and picked up a small pile of letters.  
"Have a good day."  
  
Hesitatingly Scott and I stepped out of the office and exchanged inquisitive glances.  
I felt I hadn´t been the only one begging for mercy in there.  
  
"So..." he said eventually, "You heard the professor. The car park is this way."  
And he began walking down the corridor.  
  
I had to run to keep up with his pace.

-----ooooo-----

By the end of the day I felt like a guidebook for NY travellers. Well, at least for the borough Bronx. We didn´t leave a single famous well or statue or museum out.  
  
And during all these hours we talked about 20 words, altogether.  
  
I was relieved when Scott finally called it a day, turned the comfortable car and drove back in the direction of the mansion.  
  
Somewhere on the way, a bit out of town, we went through a small forest. The street turned and a bridge appeared about a kilometer ahead. We were just driving over it, when I saw something near the first pylon.  
  
"Scott-"  
"I´ve seen him, too."  
  
He stopped at the side of the road right behind the bridge. I opened the door and jumped out even before the car had come to a complete halt.  
On the way back Scott caught up with me again and together we arrived at the stone pylon that was connected to an iron railing.  
  
The boy sitting at the far end of the crossbeam couldn´t be older than 15 years.  
And considering his position and the look on his face it seemed he didn´t wish to turn 16.

-----ooooo-----

When we stopped at the railing and stared over to him, he barely looked up.  
Scott´s voice sounded strange in the twilight of the surroundings.  
"You don´t want to do this."  
  
The boy´s head jerked up.  
"You have no idea. Go away and leave me alone!"  
  
I swung over the railing before Scott could do anything and stepped onto the crossbeam.  
"Stay away!" the kid screamed and I sat down where I was.  
  
Right in the middle of the beam, with the ground about 30 metres under me.  
  
"Okay, okay. Don´t worry, I won´t come nearer. My name is Chris, by the way…that´s Scott."  
The boy didn´t look too happy, but at least turned his gaze away from the abyss.  
"I´m not changing my mind. Please go away."  
  
Scott had climbed over the railing as well, but stopped at the beginning of the crossbeam.  
"What´s your name, son?"  
"I´m not your son. Henry."  
"Henry, why don´t you come with us and we go someplace warm and talk?"  
The kid shook his head.  
"I don´t want to talk. All I want is a quiet place to think. Now please go!"  
  
Scott and I exchanged glances, then he kneeled down.  
"What do you want to think about?"  
The teenager´s gaze went back to the small river far under us.  
"Life. Death. And everything in between. And why everything is changing."  
  
I slid an inch nearer.  
"What changed for you recently?"  
  
He looked up again.  
"What do you care?"  
And with a dreamy stare at the forest behind us.  
"If I just hop off this beam, everything will be over. Just like this."  
  
I felt all the colour draining from my face.  
_No. No! Don´t jump! Oh please, don´t jump…say something, dammit!  
_"Henry! Look at me!"  
  
He shook his head and focused on my face again.  
"What?"  
  
"What has changed? Please tell us. We may be able to help you."  
  
"No one can help me."  
  
Scott had sat down with his legs dangling over the edge of the bridge.  
"Try us. There has to be another way."  
  
The boy looked from Scott to me and back again.  
A soft breeze came from the forest and a few birds called out to one another.  
  
Henry relaxed a little, but was it because he didn´t think of throwing himself into the abyss anymore or because he´d just chosen to do it right away?  
  
There was nothing Scott or I could do if it was the latter.  
  
"I wish there was another way. But there isn´t. My father says…" the boy´s voice broke, but he tried again. "People like me shouldn´t be allowed to live."  
  
Things began to take shape.  
"And people like you would be…" I stopped.  
  
"Mutants. Freaks. Whatever you call them. See this?" he tugged at the collar of his pullover and three folded pieces of flesh became visible at the side of his neck.  
"I´ve got another one at the other side."  
  
"Branchias." Scott stated from behind.  
  
"Yeah, branchias." the boy repeated, while I was trying to figure out what they were talking about. Did I mention that English wasn´t my native language?  
"Ehm…excuse me: What are branchias?"  
  
Henry gave me an odd look.  
"Like fish have them. I can breath under water."  
  
I glared.  
"That´s…cool! Then why are you sitting here thinking about killing yourself?"  
  
"Are you kidding?! I´m a mutant! I can´t live among normal people anymore."  
  
"Who says that?" Scott asked carefully.  
  
"My father. He…threw me out a week ago. Said he couldn´t have a freak under his roof. He´s a big fan of this Kelly-guy. After his last speech about cleaning-up-your-neighbourhood dad came up to my room and gave me a similar sort of speech."  
  
He paused for a moment.  
"Then he handed me 50 bucks and sent me away."  
  
I glanced over to Scott, who stared at the boy grimly. He´d probably heard this kind of story before. Well, I hadn´t (not as far as I remember), and it gave me the creeps.  
  
"Henry, not all 'normal' people think like your dad!" I said firmly (and desperately hoped this was true).  
  
"How do you know? In my neighbourhood everybody does. Hell, everyone in New York seems to think like my dad!"  
  
"There are a couple of places where you would be welcome. Places where other mutants live." Scott replied. "Why don´t you come with us?"  
  
The boy threw an inquisitive glance at him.  
"What´s this thing you wear?"  
  
Scott´s hand went up to the visor.  
"It´s a device with ruby-quartz lenses. I have to wear it because my eyes fire optic blasts whenever I open them."  
"You´re a mutant, too?"  
"Yes, Henry, and if you come with us, you´ll meet others your own age."  
  
The boy´s gaze wandered to me.  
"What´s your mutation?"  
  
With relief I saw the interest in his eyes, but didn´t want to lie to him.  
"No superpower here, I´m afraid. Although extra strength and agility would be welcome, along with other things. But Scott´s right – there are heaps of teenagers with such special powers where we´re heading. Come on, give it a try. The bridge will still be here in a week or so."  
  
Henry gave me another odd look, then – suddenly - broke into a grin.  
"You have a way to convince people."  
  
But he stood up and balanced back towards the railing, while I slid back a little and rised as well. Scott grabbed my arm and pulled me at his side. Then we both helped the boy climbing over the iron railing.  
  
Only back inside the car my hands began to tremble.

-----ooooo-----

Storm was standing in the door of the garage when we came in.  
She smiled.  
"Did you find what you were looking for?"  
I shook my head.  
"Not exactly. But we found something else instead."  
With this I opened the back door, so that she could see the boy sleeping on the seat.  
Storm didn´t waste time with questions.  
"Stay here." she said while Scott was closing the driver´s door carefully. "I´ll get Jean."

-----ooooo-----

Scott and I were walking to and fro in front of Xavier´s office.  
  
Finally the door opened and Jean stepped into the hallway.  
"Well?" we asked in unison.  
"He´s fine, at least physically. The professor could convince him to stay for a couple of days. My feeling tells me he´ll stay even longer."  
  
I couldn´t help myself – I grinned like a fool.  
Glancing at Scott I found he did the same.  
  
Jean smiled and turned to me.  
"Professor Xavier would like to have a word with you now."  
"Oh. Okay."  
When I walked past Scott, he held my arm.  
"Good work."  
He offered his hand and I felt my spirits rise even more when I shook it.  
"Goes for both of us."

-----ooooo-----

"It seems your trip through New York was a failure, at least when it comes to your own…problems." Xavier stated, but then a warm smile went over his face.  
"On the other hand, it wasn´t for us. Thank you for helping Henry. He doesn´t feel as lost as before. I´m sure he´ll recover quickly from his unpleasant experiences."  
  
"I very much hope so. He seems to be a nice guy."  
There was a moment of silence.  
"Professor, I think I could walk around town for ages and not even come near the key to my mind. Is there anything else I can do to regain my memories?"  
  
He thought about the answer.  
"It is an extraordinary strong block. I have never seen one like it. Judging from your behaviour – especially when it comes to unconscious reactions – I have the firm believe you were kept in a laboratory for some time, where it was implanted against your will. But usually even the strongest blocks get holes after a while. Maybe with a little push in the right direction you´ll be able to regain important parts of your memory in time, even if you never come across the key. But you´ll have to be patient."  
  
I sighed.  
"Even without my memory I know I´m not a patient person."  
  
He smiled again.  
"In the meantime you can stay at the mansion. I won´t order you to take courses, but rather invite you to choose a few with the older students. See if you can further develop your climbing abilities, maybe discover new interests. I´ll see what I can find out about this other telepath and his block."  
  
Tired, but with a warm feeling in my stomach I got up.  
"Thank you, professor. For everything."

-----ooooo-----

Sunbeams were wandering over my open book, over the picture of a cell.   
  
Jean was giving a speech about chromosomes and most of the students were already half asleep. I found it difficult to concentrate either, my interest in micro-biology being very limited.  
A piece of paper landed on my desk. I picked it up and unfolded it.  
Are you coming to the mall later? Henry, Jason and Bobby want to see this new war movie. We could go window shopping afterwards.  
  
Slowly I turned my head and caught Marie´s gaze. Bobby and Henry were watching me either, only Jason looked in the other direction. He was a muscular guy with a greenish teint and little horns and scales on the back of his neck – when he went outside he always wore a long-sleeved shirt with a collar to hide them. He called me "Normalo" whenever he saw me and would throw me hateful stares all the time. He had plenty of them.  
I had decided to ignore him.  
  
Certainly the idea of going to the mall with me – even if I was only part of a bigger group – was nothing he´d look forward to. Well, it seemed he was in for a pleasant surprise.  
  
With an apologetic smile I shook my head and lifted my shoulders.  
  
I´d promised Scott to help with the training later on. Jean and he wanted to test something.  
I wrote a brief note and threw the paper on the desk behind me.  
  
A few minutes later the answer was there.  
We´ll help with the training and go together afterwards. How does that sound?  
  
"Miss Grey?" Jason had lifted a hand.  
"Yes, Jason?"  
"I was on the Internet yesterday and found this website – "  
Jean Grey frowned.  
"I know it. What does it have to do with this lesson?"  
The boy glanced at me, briefly.  
"It claims mutants were the "greatest scourge of the twenty-first century". When the Normalos already think that, why don´t we just take over? I mean you could temper with their brains to get them to do what you want. Almost every mutant is stronger with his x-sense than a Homo sapiens. Why don´t we use these senses to make life easier for us, instead of locking ourselves up like frightened kids?"  
  
Jean closed her book.  
"Okay, let´s finish here. Please read page 43 to 47 for tomorrow."  
She walked around her desk and dropped the book, which levitated in the air for a moment before taking its place in a shelf nearby.  
"Jason, I´d like you to think about this question and discuss it with your classmates. We´ll talk about it tonight, after dinner in the library. Anybody who´s interested can attend the meeting. Class dismissed."  
  
Everyone rised, grabbed their stuff and walked in the direction of the door. Marie and Henry caught up with me in the hallway.  
"Don´t listen to him." she said, "He only tries to provoke you."  
"I know." I growled, only partly satisfied that Jason´s big mouth had gotten him sort of extra lessons and not the fight he´d been looking for.   
"So what about the mall?" Henry asked, rubbing his hands, "We can still go there after this training thing, can´t we?"  
"Uh…sure." I replied, wondering if I still wanted to go, knowing that Jason would be in the group - almost certainly harrassing me along the way, "I just have to see what Scott and Jean are up to first."

-----ooooo-----

Buzz  
  
Buzz  
  
Buzz  
  
I took another pile of the small orange frisbees and threw one at Scott.  
Like the others it exploded in mid-air, in front of his visor.  
  
Buzz  
  
It wasn´t exactly a brain-job, so I could turn my head a little every now and then, watching the others playing with their senses.  
  
Bobby was fighting Jason.  
They were circling each other.  
Suddenly Jason leapt forward and swung his padded stick, but Bobby dove under his arm and pushed him from behind.  
  
"Chris."  
"Sorry, Scott."  
  
I threw a few more frisbees.  
  
Buzz  
  
Buzz  
  
Buzz  
  
When I looked again they were already rolling on the ground, a ball with arms and legs and horns. A crust of ice was crawling over the stony ground, freezing Jason´s left leg. I was laughing with the others when the boy tried to get up – he looked like a fish hopping around on dry land.  
  
He shot me an angry glance.  
"Stop! Laughing!"  
I raised an eyebrow, but did so.  
  
From the corner of an eye I could see Professor Xavier wheeling out onto the terrace.  
  
Jason finally freed himself, got up and walked past me. The hiss was only for my ears.  
"Normalo! We should eliminate your kind! All of them!"   
  
Paralysed by the hate in his voice I only stood there, watched him placing his foot onto a flower pot and adjusting his trousers. Then anger took over, though I didn´t express it aloud - there were kids around.  
_Asshole! You should be put in a lab! Shock therapy might help you!  
_A serious voice in my head, not one of mine.  
You don´t mean that.  
  
I grabbed a few more frisbees.  
_Oh yes, I certainly do!  
_ I don´t think so. As a matter of fact you pity him.  
  
Suddenly Scott became very busy destroying all the little orange discs that appeared in front of his visor, being thrown with the force of my rage.   
  
Buzz  
Buzz  
Buzz  
Buzz  
Buzz  
Smack  
  
The last one hit his shoulder and disappeared behind a small stone wall.  
  
I asked the professor to leave my mind and a moment later could only hear my own thoughts again.

-----ooooo-----

In another corner of the huge terrace an older boy I´d only seen occasionally did a similar job as I: He was throwing knives at Logan. Without much effort Wolverine was brushing them away with his claws. The boy tried different angles, speed, anything possible to unbalance the man, but each knife was caught and wiped away. Logan didn´t even sweat.  
  
When I´d calmed down a little – Jason had gone back into the house and Marie and Bobby were sitting on a stone bench, deep in conversation - I continued the training with Scott, but kept on watching Wolverine and his "trainer". The man was wearing a padded vest, but not even a single knife had hit it yet.  
  
Buzz  
  
Buzz  
  
Buzz  
  
_He uses the wrong technique._ I found myself thinking, _He shouldn´t take the knife at the top, rather hold it more in the middle._  
  
"Chris?"  
"Sorry, Scott."  
  
Buzz  
  
Buzz  
  
Buzz  
  
I began to wish the training was over – this was getting dull. And in dull moments the mind begins to wander.  
Certainly not a bad thing.  
  
But I didn´t like the path my mind was wandering on.  
It was full of black holes that gave me a headache – literally.  
  
There was a growl behind my back, a hiss and half a second later a silver blade stuck in the flower pot next to my right leg.  
I whirled around.  
"Are you _nuts_?! Watch it!"  
  
Logan pulled his claws back in and walked over.  
"Sorry, my fault. The kid threw a bit too low and I just tried to catch it."  
"Doesn´t seem to be a very useful training session when you can catch the knives, instead of just fighting them off."  
"You think you can do better?"  
  
I shrugged.  
"No idea. I´d love to try though."  
  
We looked at Scott, who glanced at his watch and nodded.  
"Okay, I have afternoon lessons in a few minutes anyway. Don´t hurt yourself."  
I rolled my eyes.  
"Oh, thank you so much for your confidence in me."

-----ooooo-----

Logan gave me a basket with a dozen throwing knives.  
I took one out and – almost unconsciously – weighted it in my hand, finding the center of gravity.   
Logan stepped back and waited.  
"No claws?" I asked disappointed.  
"Let´s see if I need them."  
Nodding slowly I took a deep breath.  
"Ready?"  
"Ready."  
  
The first knife flew directly at his heart.

-----ooooo-----

Of course I missed.  
  
That is – his claws shot out in time and the weapon flew to one side, landing on the stone ground, gliding onto the lawn next to the terrace.  
Before anyone could say anything the next silver blade was on the way, aiming at his stomach area.  
It was closer this time, but still no hit.  
  
My mind began to gather facts and list them, while I was reaching for the next knife.  
  
_The wind´s blowing from behind.  
His left arm is slightly slower than the right.  
The padding can´t be more than 6 inches.  
The last knife wasn´t flying straight, more precision this time.  
If you want to kill someone with a knife aim at the windpipe.  
_  
Now where´d that last part come from?  
  
Too late – the weapon was already flying.  
Not towards the windpipe – much lower. Towards the upper hip.  
It screeched when the claws hit the metal blade and hurled it away.  
But this time I didn´t give Logan the opportunity to recover.   
  
Two more knives were on the way, thrown with a technique called "donkey-shot" after a guy who got both of his ears pinned to a wall with this move.  
_Where the hell did THIS come from?!  
_  
Wolverine lifted his right arm to keep the knife from hitting his nose – then breathed in sharply.  
The left arm hadn´t been quick enough.  
  
A black handle was sticking out his chest, the blade deeply buried in the fabric of the padding.  
  
Way _too_ deep.

-----ooooo-----

I heard Rogue crying out behind me.  
A second later she was at Logan´s side.  
"Oh my gosh! Are you okay?"  
  
His grin looked a bit forced.  
"Sure. Let me just…" he removed the knife with a grunt.  
  
There was blood on the blade.  
  
An accident.  
Just an accident.  
  
I looked up and found everyone staring at me.  
Another knife was in my hand and I dropped it quickly.  
  
No accident.  
I´d seen the small opening of the padding only an instant before the knife left my hand. I´d seen it and aimed at it without thinking twice, knowing that this time it would hit home.  
And it had.  
The first thing I´d felt was satisfaction.  
No triumph, no joy, just plain satisfaction about a task well accomplished.  
  
When I came to my senses again, I realised what that meant.  
  
"Chris…" Jean´s voice.  
I backed away.  
"I´m…I´m sorry."  
  
A killer.  
I was a killer.  
There was no other explanation.  
Someone had my brain washed, but the bits that were leaking through the holes didn´t need explanation, any idiot could make the connection.  
  
I needed to sort out my thoughts.  
  
"It was an accident." Logan grumbled while covering the cut with his hand. "No harm done."  
There were only three people on the terrace who didn´t seem to join in the relieved chatter of the group around the bleeding mutant:  
  
Jean Grey, Professor Xavier and myself.

-----ooooo-----

I hugged my knees and watched the sun setting behind the forest.  
You get an impressive view from the roof of the mansion.  
And it´s quiet enough to do what I had avoided for too long: thinking.  
  
A killer.   
No.  
"Assassin" was the word I had been looking for.  
Not that it made any difference.  
  
Actually it made one, at least when it came to my staying at this place. I would have to go eventually.  
They were nice people, but with all the kids around they couldn´t take the risk of letting me stay here any longer. Who knew what else was buried in the depth of my mind, waiting to come to the surface?  
Maybe I _was_ a mass murderer.  
  
The breeze brought a familiar scent, I didn´t have to turn around to recognise its owner.  
"I don´t wanna talk."  
Storm sat beside me.  
"Just wanted to check on you. Logan is fine, the wound wasn´t deep."  
Now I turned around.  
"That´s not true and you know it. If it wasn´t for his healing abilities this could have gotten him killed."  
  
She shook her head.  
"Even without his mutation he wouldn´t have died."  
I didn´t respond and she put a hand on my shoulder.  
"You didn´t want this to happen. It was an accident."  
I shook the hand off.  
"You have no idea! I wasn´t in control! It was all reflexes taking over! I didn´t, not even for one second, think of Logan´s healing abilities. There was an opening in the pad, I saw it, I used it. No conscious thought about it! Just reacting."  
  
I didn´t continue the train of thoughts. Storm could make the connection herself. What if I lost control again?   
With someone else around?  
One who couldn´t stop me?  
  
One of the students?  
  
"I don´t think you could kill anybody."  
"The problem is you don´t know. Not for sure. Hell, not even _I_ know for sure!"  
"Trust the professor. He didn´t detect danger in you."  
"Just because it wasn´t there before? I feel like the barrier in my head is breaking – and I try to hold it up, because I´m not sure if I want to know what´s behind! Whenever I look at someone my mind unconsciously starts making a list of pressure points I could use in an attack and notes things like a mutation for further reference. Have you ever seen "A long kiss goodnight"? About this woman who suffers from amnesia? She´s no memory whatsoever about her former life, marries a guy, has a family and leads a normal life – and finds out eventually that she´s in fact an assassin. The former personality takes over and she abandons her husband and daughter and gets back to her old job, almost killing her daughter on the way."  
  
Storm chuckled softly.  
"I remember the movie. Didn´t she put her own life in danger in the end to save the child?"  
  
"That´s beside the point."  
"I thought that was exactly the point."  
  
"What if I´m here to kill one of you?"  
"Who?"  
"I don´t know. The professor."  
"Don´t worry about him. He´s not as defenceless as he might appear."  
"He can´t see behind my block. I could get this de-programming code or whatever in the right moment and would just…you know…throw a knife or something."  
  
Storm sighed. "It would take more to kill him, believe me. Why don´t you give your mind a rest? Sleep over it – sometimes things look different the following day."  
  
I rubbed my eyes. All of a sudden I felt very tired. With an obedient nod I got up and together we walked over to the mansard window.  
  
"Where are Marie and the others?"  
"They were waiting for you downstairs. I sent them to the mall and promised I would try to convince you to follow them later."  
  
"I´m afraid I´m not in the mood."

-----ooooo-----

When we were walking down the steps to the students´ lounge Scott called out from the hallway. His face was more serious than ever.  
"We have a situation: Rogue and Jason have been kidnapped."  
"What?! By whom?"  
Jean came around the corner, carrying a black uniform that she now thrusted into Storm´s arm.  
"We assume it was Mystique. The kids were abducted from the mall by a policeman. Bobby said they were accused of shoplifting and went with the guy to set things right. When they didn´t come back he checked and found out there´d never been a complaint from the shop."  
Suddenly a growling Logan appeared at my side, throwing Scott a key.  
"What are you waiting for? The jet´s ready. Let´s go."  
  
I watched the group walking quickly to the hidden elevator, with Storm only flashing me an apologetic half-smile.  
Amazing how the 3D-charts of pressure points in my head could be so easily replaced by a map of the mansion – including most of the cameras and hiding spots on the way to the jet hangar.  
  
When the X-Men were gone I turned around and ran down the corridor.

-----ooooo-----

I found Professor Xavier in the observation room.  
  
He was talking to the guys in the jet, but I was a total loss about what all this techno-babble was referring to.  
Then the noise of the jet starting filled the room and Xavier turned to me. Silently I walked over to a chair and sat down. I could tell he was about to object, but something stopped him from throwing me out.  
  
I watched him working on the controls, wishing I could help somehow. Since my first plan (smuggling myself into the jet and saving the day) hadn´t sounded like such a bright idea on second thought I was looking for something else to do now.  
  
Suddenly there was a flash in my mind.  
  
The mall.  
A policeman walking over to us with a serious expression.  
"Someone saw the two of you taking a few things from the CD-shop over there. Would you please follow me?"  
"But officer, we didn´t…"  
"When someone tells me such a thing I have to investigate. There are two ways: You either come with me or I´ll make you."  
  
I realised Xavier was transferring someone´s memory of the past events into my mind, like a video tape.  
  
"Okay, officer, we´re coming. Bobby, stay here, we´ll be back soon."  
"But Marie…"  
"I´m sure it won´t take long. We´ll just explain things."  
"Uh…okay."  
  
The policeman leading Rogue and Jason away. They disappear around a corner. The hand of the clock at the wall rushes forward, but still no sign from them.  
A frantic thought: I should have gone with them.  
  
The freckled guy in the CD-shop:  
"No, I didn´t report any shoplifters today."  
  
Panic.  
  
I shook my head to get the intense feeling of panic out of my mind and the "tape" stopped.  
  
Xavier was still working at the console, the silence was only interrupted occasionally by the bleeping sounds of the blinking instruments. A blinking red dot on the screen moved another few inches.  
  
"Where are they going?"  
"Rogue and Jason are outside of town, in an old warehouse. They´re going to pick them up."  
  
Sounded pretty simple, but you don´t really need a jet and four powerful mutants to just "pick someone up". Well, there wasn´t anything I could do right now, so I settled back and recalled the part of Bobby´s memory in which the policeman had showed up for the first time.   
  
Maybe I´d find a clue concerning the reason for the kidnapping.

-----ooooo-----

There was a knock at the door of the ready room and a young man stuck his head in.  
I got up.  
"Hey Bobby."  
  
He smiled at me and raised a gun.   
  
The gun was bad enough. It was huge. But what really gave me the creeps was the strong feeling of déjà-vu that overcame me at this point.

-----ooooo-----

I threw a glance at Professor Xavier who slowly turned around.  
"Mystique. So you are behind this. What do you want with the children?"  
  
Bobby closed the door behind him, locked it and……began to melt.  
  
His face changed, skin and hair ran down the top of his head and gave way for some sort of helmet sitting over a face covered in blue scales. Solid yellow eyes gave me a brief, uninterested glance, then went back to the professor.  
  
"Can´t you read my mind, professor?"  
  
I realised that the helmet was kind of a protection against telepaths. So that was the reason why this mysterious woman had managed to get into the mansion without being detected.  
  
Mystique smiled again.  
"Don´t worry about your precious children. They are save. I only needed them to lure the other X-Men away. I wanted to talk to you alone, professor."  
  
I got up and strolled towards the door.  
"Well, if you´ll excuse me then…"  
  
She didn´t even move.  
"If you touch the handle, I will kill you."  
  
I stopped, turned and went back to my chair without another word. Mystique smirked.  
"Smart girl. What´s your mutation?"  
  
"Sorry, just a simple homo sapiens without a sixth sense. But people fear my sarcastic remarks."  
  
The blue scaled woman looked at Professor Xavier with a raised eyebrow.  
"Still searching for hope, are you?"  
  
Xavier wheeled nearer.  
"Why are you here, Mystique?"  
  
Her voice was all business.  
"I want you to release Magneto."

-----ooooo-----

He shook his head.  
"Impossible."  
  
Her eyes narrowed.  
"It´s not. Not for you. I want you to arrange his release right away. Mix the minds of some official up and get him out of there. If you refuse I´ll tell Sabretooth and Toad to kill one of your kids. And…" with this her gaze wandered to me, "…I will take care of this little homo sapiens here."  
  
I wasn´t afraid. I mean, this whole situation was just so…weird…it didn´t feel real at all.  
  
At the same time, my mind was searching for a way out. Couldn´t Xavier send Jean a telepathic "memo" about what was happening here? Make them come back?   
  
_But they wouldn´t._ I realised a moment later, _He would tell them to get the kids first, _then_ return._  
  
Searching the room for weapons and escape routes and my mind for an idea I continued to listen to the conversation of the two mutants.  
  
"…was in there long enough. He only tries to make the world a better place."  
Xavier shook his head.  
"Only for mutants."  
She laughed.  
"You´re a mutant, too."  
"As you know I believe in peaceful coexistence between homo sapiens and homo superior."  
Mystique was about to say something, but stopped. Then she raised her weapon again.  
  
"I´m not here to have an ethical discussion. Get Magneto out or your kids will die."

-----ooooo-----

It took Xavier about 15 minutes to do what she demanded.  
  
I watched as he convinced three official that Erik Lehnsherr needed an immediate abdominal operation and was to be transferred to the mansion. They didn´t ask why their arrestee was to be brought to the mansion instead of a hospital.  
  
When the professor turned to Mystique again he looked tired.  
"I did what you wanted. Now let the children go."  
  
She sneered.  
"That´s not the way it works. We´ll wait for him. But not here."

-----ooooo-----

We were standing in the hangar when the Mercedes drove down the ramp.  
  
It stopped and a very confused looking man in a suit got out. He didn´t seem to notice Mystique, who immediately aimed her gun at him, but addressed Xavier, while walking around the car and opening the back door.  
"Good afternoon, professor. Mr. Lehnsherr has a…medical problem that has to be looked after." From the expression on his face he desperately tried to remember something, but couldn´t.  
  
I pitied him, but was distracted by the guy who got off the back seat. Average height, grey hair – but a pair of piercing brown eyes that saw right through you. He looked around for a moment, then his gaze fell onto Xavier and me, being guarded by Mystique.  
He broke into a smile.  
"Mystique, my dear. I should have guessed it right away."  
  
The woman returned the smile, but said nothing. Magneto walked nearer.  
"Charles. How did she "convince" you to let me out? As much as I want to I can´t imagine you finally came to your senses and did it out of your own free will…"  
  
Xavier´s expression didn´t change.  
"No." he said gravely, "It seems she took over some of your methods to archieve her goals. Erik, before-"  
"No, Charles, save your breath. And while we´re at it: Don´t try anything funny! You know I would feel it if you tried to mess with my mind. Mystique, the helmet, please."  
  
The blue-scaled woman removed the helmet and handed it to Magneto, who pulled it over his head. He sighed.  
"Much better."  
  
Suddenly there was a loud metallic noise outside and a man flew into the hangar, slid over the ground, toppled over and was stopped by a wall.  
I inhaled sharply.  
"Scott!"  
  
This meant the others were here.   
This also meant they weren´t alone.

-----ooooo-----

I reached behind me and grabbed the object lying on a pile of boxes.  
A screwdriver.  
Not a very elegant weapon, but it would have to do. If only I could remember this assassins´ training I´d apparently had. Then I could at least help! Instead I stayed next to the wheelchair, trembling with a mix of fear and anticipation.  
  
"Erik, stop this!" Xavier said sharply, while the noise of the fight grew louder. The other man laughed.  
"But why? Let them fight – aren´t you interested in the outcome? Who knows, maybe your students are indeed better than mine."  
  
It didn´t look like it though.  
  
Scott hadn´t regained consciousness yet and from what I could see Wolverine was extremely busy outside, fighting off Sabretooth. The man who´d brought Magneto was sitting in a corner of the hangar, staring at the pile of boxes behind me, but obviously not "seeing" anything.  
  
Suddenly a greenish guy jumped into the hangar, landed on the ground, turned around and let his tongue shooting towards Storm, who came running down the ramp, all glowing eyes and flying hair.  
  
The tongue never reached her.  
With a cry Toad jumped back against the wall, where he stuck, rubbing his head.  
"Ouch. What was that?"  
  
Magneto turned to Xavier again.  
"Tsk, tsk…You call this fair, Charles?"  
  
The man in the wheelchair didn´t respond, but kept on concentrating on the fights around us. I was still waiting for an opening, but with both Magneto and Mystique standing so close there wasn´t much I could do.  
  
_Bronx? What the hell could it be I have to remember before my memory comes back?  
_  
Sabretooth and Wolverine had finally found their way inside the basement as well, growling and punching. There was this déjà-vu-feeling again, but this time I didn´t pay much attention.  
  
Where was Jean?  
  
Bringing the children.  
For an instant there was a picture of the jet in my mind, with a grim-looking Jean and two very relieved teenagers on the way here.  
  
Sabretooth was jumping towards Wolverine, but seemed to be out of breath all of a sudden – none of his punches hit his opponent.  
  
Magneto made a gesture with one hand and Mystique tossed him the gun. He made a face while he cocked it and aimed it at Xavier.  
"You just _never_ listen to me!"  
  
Then he pulled the trigger.

-----ooooo-----

I gasped when the shot thundered through the hangar.  
Actually it wasn´t that loud, but to me it was like a clangorous slap in the face.  
  
A red dart hit Xavier´s shoulder and fell down to the floor while his hand reached for the wound. Then his eyes closed and he folded in the chair.  
  
_Not dead! Not dead!_ It throbbed in my head, _Just unconscious. It was only a dart, an anaesthetic! Magneto wouldn´t kill him!_  
  
I sank down and felt his pulse, just to be sure. It was still beating. The screwdriver disappeared in my right shoe.  
With a bored sigh Mystique walked away to help Toad beating up Storm.  
  
I was alone with Magneto, who looked at me for the first time.   
"Don´t worry." He smiled and pointed towards Xavier, "Your headmaster will come to in a few minutes. It´s not a strong anaesthetic."  
  
I couldn´t talk, only grabbed the screwdriver firmer to make sure it was still there, then stood up again, quickly slipping the tool up my sleeve.  
"Bastard!" I muttered, loud enough for him to hear.  
  
Magneto chuckled without humour.  
"Someday you will also learn that humans and mutants can´t live together. Maybe you´ll even join my side in a few years, who knows?"  
  
I was too angry to hold back.  
"I don´t think you´d like me to join your "team". Not if you mean what you say about homo sapiens."  
  
His eyes widened.  
"You…you are…"  
Then he chuckled again, shaking his head and throwing the unconscious man in the wheelchair an almost affectionate glance.  
"Oh Charles, you always have a surprise up your sleeve, haven´t you?"  
  
"HEY!"  
The man in the suit was walking around the Mercedes, an angry expression on his face. With Xavier being K.O. he had woken up again.  
"What´s going on here?! I demand an explana-"  
Storm crashed into him and together they slid over the ground. The white-haired woman ignored the gasping guy under her, jumped up and sent a bright bolt of lightening in the direction of Toad, missing him only by a few inches.  
  
Sabretooth and Mystique had cornered Wolverine who growled at them, swinging his blades.   
Suddenly a bolt of red lightening shot from the corner of the hangar in which Scott had landed earlier. It hit Sabretooth who roared and turned to the other, almost forgotten opponent, while Mystique began to kick the crap out of Wolverine.  
  
By now the hangar smelled as if a furry animal had been fried in it.  
A big furry animal.  
  
Wolverine was still in trouble, but Storm and Cyclops were handling their opponents pretty well.  
  
Outside the jet was landing on the lawn.  
Only moments later Jean was running down the ramp, followed by Rogue and Jason.  
With relief I saw that Xavier began to stir again.  
  
Magneto gasped, then cried out.  
"Mystique! You had her and let her go again?! Do I have to do _everything_ here?!"  
  
He stamped in the direction of the newcomers.  
Jean stopped and rised her arms, but with no more than a flick of Magneto´s finger, one of the water barrels in the corner leapt right at her, knocking her over. There was a loud bang when the barrel hit the ground next to the woman and burst open. Water splashed everywhere and ran down the ramp. Unimpressed Magneto walked through the stream, his eyes fixed on Rogue.  
  
The two teenagers stopped in horror and moved backwards when Magneto passed by their unconscious teacher.  
  
An opening.  
  
Almost without thinking I let the screwdriver fly. It went straight for Magneto´s right shoulder. Hard to reach an object sticking out at this particular spot. He´d be distracted for quite a while.  
  
Or so I thought.

-----ooooo-----

It was a perfect shot, considering the circumstances.  
Not too strong, so the screwdriver wouldn´t spin around in mid-air; not too weak, so it wouldn´t bounce back off its destination.  
Perfect aim too, even with this unbalanced piece of metal.  
  
The mistake in this concept only came to my mind when Magneto whirled around and held one hand up – stopping the tool right in front of his chest.  
  
Metal, right.  
I´d just tried to fight the Master of Magnetism with a piece of metal.  
How dumb can a single person be?   
  
Without moving a muscle I watched as the screwdriver turned around and shot back towards me, stopping only a few inches in front of my heart.  
  
The embarrassment was almost greater than my fear.  
Even before Magneto opened his mouth I felt like disappearing into a hole in the ground.  
  
"Did nobody tell you about my mutation, young homo sapiens?"  
  
Funny enough, I couldn´t remember anybody telling me. Another piece of information that had found its way into my mind on its own – only seconds after I´d have needed it, of course.  
  
_Blast!  
_  
Now I was about to get stabbed for this delay.  
  
Jason and Rogue were standing still at the upper part of the ramp, unsure of what to do.  
Even if Professor Xavier had been completely awake he wouldn´t have been able to stop Magneto from getting the kids (or rather "Marie", whom the leader of the brotherhood was obviously after) – the helmet would have prevented it. But maybe this moment of distraction would buy them some time, for all it was worth.  
  
I forced myself to move my gaze upwards and meet Magneto´s.  
_Pay attention to what the weapon is doing – but pay more to the eyes of its holder.  
  
Where did THIS…? Uh…never mind…  
_  
Though he wasn´t really "holding" the screwdriver Magneto sure had control over the object. Searching his face for an expression that might indicate he was going to let the tool leap into my chest I frantically slapped my mind for information.  
_Now would be a perfect time for this "Bronx"-thing to come up. Help was never more urgently needed!  
_  
Nothing, no new piece of memory, no feeling of knowledge concerning assassins´ training.  
  
_Damn!  
_  
But wasn´t there a blue-ish glow in the corner right next to the ramp?  
_Storm is probably building up some new lightning.  
_  
"Erik! Don´t-" a voice at my left side croaked.  
Magneto walked a few steps down the ramp again, the screwdriver hovered nearer.  
The blue glowing in the corner got stronger, almost forming a circle – and there was this odd déjà-vu-feeling again...  
  
"Oh Charles, you won´t even let mutants defend themselves! Can´t you see your whole concept is going to destroy your children someday?"  
He stood still again, his rising hand pulling the screwdriver back as if he was drawing a bow.  
  
Suddenly I felt calmness overcoming me. A quiet tune was humming at the corner of my mind and the trembling of my hands stopped. If this was my fate I would meet it – but certainly not without doing everything possible to change it first!  
  
Magneto waited for Xavier to say something, then rised his hand for the gesture that would kill me.  
  
Wolverine had Mystique pinned to the ground and Scott and Jean were hunting Toad and Sabretooth through the hangar.._At least the kids are out of reach...  
Xavier only needs a few more seconds to regain full consciousness, then he´ll be able to stop the fights..._  
  
Like a rabbit caught in a car´s lights I watched Magneto´s hand stopping in mid air.  
Then – quick as a snake - the palm shot out and I whirled to the side, unable to get out of the way of the pointy instrument, but just in time to protect my heart.  
The screwdriver drilled into my left arm up to the handle. I collapsed onto the wet ground and heard myself crying out.  
  
The real pain only came seconds later, but was so intense I nearly fainted.  
Panting and sobbing I rolled onto the right arm and pulled my knees to my chest. Around the trunk of the Mercedes I could see disappointment and anger in Magneto´s face.  
  
And something else.  
  
Behind him, there was more of the blue-ish glow.  
I liked the look of it.  
It looked…peacefully somehow.  
Like a lake seen from above.  
  
Oh shit, I was beginning to hallucinate from the pain.  
  
It made my vision blur...or did it?  
  
Something leapt out of the blue circle behind Magneto. I watched the man being hit by what seemed to be a solid rock.  
A blue rock.  
  
Somehow I got to my feet and swayed around the Mercedes. Leaning against the side of the car I blinked until my eyes focused onto the blue…thing on top of the man with the black helmet.  
It raised its head, all red-glowing eyes and growling like a chainsaw.  
  
Holding my arm, feeling warm blood dribbling down my elbow I whispered the name of the furious creature.  
  
"Bronx."

-----ooooo-----

There was a buzzing sound in my head when the barrier broke and the memories returned like a huge tidal wave. Whimpering I sank to my knees and held my forehead, that throbbed as if it was about to explode.  
  
Something pressed against my right shoulder and a wet tongue went over my face, pushing the hand away. Eyes without pupils were watching me attentively, the twitching nose taking in smells of blood and sweat and fear.  
  
"Bronx." I repeated in a low voice, touching his muzzle, the horns, just making sure he was really here. Then I rested my head against the neck of the gargoyle and – broke into tears.  
  
Talk about embarrassment: I never cry. As a rule. And now I was doing just that.  
In public.  
  
_Damn!  
_But I couldn´t stop.  
  
There he was, my old pal – alive and wailing like a puppy. Last time I´d seen him it had been in a Psi-Corps laboratory.  
They´d caught him because he wanted to help me – not for the first time.  
No wonder Bester had chosen his name to seal the gate in my mind – he´d probably thought I´d never see my blue buddy again.  
  
Bet he´d tried everything to make sure I wouldn´t.  
  
When I´d calmed down a little I looked up. The fight was pretty much over, with everyone staring at the unusual invader and his uncontrollably sobbing friend.  
I wiped my eyes and got up.  
  
The scenery had changed again:  
Jean had raised the roaring Sabretooth to the ceiling and was holding him there with her telekinetic powers, Wolverine had come around the corner, half-carrying an unconscious Mystique, and Cyclops and Storm were busy binding Toad´s hands and feet together. Rogue and Jason were walking down the ramp, carefully stepping around the motionless Magneto.  
The girl was the first one finding her voice again.  
"What is this?"  
  
Despite the pain in my arm I patted the blue gargoyle affectionately.  
"His name is Bronx. He´s a gargoyle."  
  
The sound of rubber wheels on the stone ground indicated that Professor Xavier had regained full consciousness.  
"What a remarkable companion. So it was _his_ name that had locked your memories away."  
  
The creature in question was already turning his head to an fro, absorbing all the new and exiting smells of the people around him.  
Briefly I wondered if mutants smelled differently from other humans, but was distracted by the increasing pain in my upper arm.  
  
A strong hand grabbed my shoulder and ripped it off.  
Actually it only removed the screwdriver, but it sure felt like the whole arm coming off in the process.  
Cursing I struggled to my feet again, fighting for breath.  
"You know, you should consider a career as a nurse, professor. With your acting in such a gentle and sensible manner."   
  
He smiled, dropped the bloody screwdriver and handed me a clean handkerchief to press onto the wound.  
"I might ask Jean if there´s a job vacancy. Now I suggest you go with her and get patched up. We can talk afterwards."  
  
But "Fate" had other plans - bloody son-of-a-bitch!

-----ooooo-----

Suddenly the Mercedes moved to the side and crashed into another car.  
Everybody turned around.  
  
Magneto had managed to get to his feet. Apparently Bronx´ attack had only knocked him out for a few minutes. He still looked a bit…worn, but his eyes were clearing quickly. The Mercedes was lifted up by an invisible hand and hovered over our heads, spinning madly.  
  
Xavier wheeled nearer to the ramp.  
"Erik, it´s over. Please stop fighting, before more people get hurt."  
  
Magneto´s gaze wandered to me, then Bronx, rested on Jason´s frightened face and stopped on Rogue´s, who was kneeling next to the panting gargoyle on the wet ground, not daring to move.  
  
"I´ll…" he swayed and his eyes were clouding again, "I´ll never stop…figh…". Then he stumbled and once more collapsed onto the stony ramp.  
  
Everything seemed to happen in slow motion.  
  
I heard a few cries, saw Sabretooth dropping from the ceiling when Jean quickly moved her concentration from him to the falling car, but realised she wouldn´t be able to hold the heavy object, at least not long enough for everybody to get away.  
  
Before I could as much as formulate a conscious thought, reflex had opened a part of my mind that wasn´t fully trained yet – but fully operational nevertheless.  
The blue circle opened within an instant and spread over the people in the puddle under the falling car.  
Jason had pulled Rogue away from the danger zone, but Xavier, Wolverine, Mystique and I were still under the spinning vehicle.  
From the corner of an eye I saw Wolverine throwing the motionless Mystique in Storm´s direction and leaping in the opposite one, undoubtly to save the professor and me.  
  
Not a chance.  
Even with his enhanced abilities he´d be too slow.  
  
The blue circle closed around me and I felt the familiar sensation of the dimension slide.  
  
[Where to?]  
  
_I don´t care. Somewhere save.  
_

-----ooooo-----

Only seconds later I slid out of the portal, crashed into a grey wall and fell back, landing right on my butt.  
_Speaking of "elegant"! At least I hit the wall with my good arm.  
_  
An instant later a growling man´s shoulder was pressed into my injured one with incredible force and darkness clouded my senses.  
Far away I could hear a familiar voice shouting my name and someone else calling for a security team.  
  
"Over here. Slowly." the familiar voice ordered. Then I felt something touching the wound and the man added with a sigh,  
"Why always _this_ arm, for heaven´s sake?!"

-----ooooo-----

End (of Part 6)

* * *

You know the drill...review, if you liked the story... :) 


	8. VII Tremors

Author: Wyrd Sister  
Fandom: X-Men/Babylon 5  
Disclaimer: I know you know, so I keep it brief: I own nothing apart from Chris and the characters I make up on the way.  
Unfortunately I´m not making money with this story. But presents and cheques (and most of all: reviews) will be gratefully accepted… grin 

p>

The last jump brought Prof. Xavier, Logan, Bronx and me to the B5-universe.

* * *

**Chris´ Chronicles**

_Journal of a Dimension Traveller_

© 2002-2004

Part 7 – Tremors

Familiar bleeping noises.  
The smell of recycled air.  
Someone moaning in a distance.  
  
I knew where I was even before opening my eyes.  
_MedLab, Babylon 5.  
_  
With a sigh I sat up and blinked.  
_You _have_ to change your lifestyle._ a voice in my mind grinned, _Waking up in infirmaries has become more and more of a habit lately._  
  
Absently I touched the bandage on my upper left arm.  
No pain, just a numb feeling.  
_Okay, what happened _this_ time?_  
  
"Yip, yip, wyooow…"  
Bronx was storming around the corner with sparkling eyes (how can eyes without pupils actually _sparkle_?), arrived at the infirmary bed and placed his huge paws onto the stretcher.  
I reached out and began stroking him behind the ears. A delightful sigh was the reply, followed by a warm tongue licking my other hand. Is this gargoyle a big baby or what?  
  
Grinning I slid from the bed and gave him a big hug.  
"Hey pal. Haven´t seen you in _ages_!"  
  
"Chris! You´re up!"  
  
For an instant I thought Bronx had spoken.  
But no, of course not, what a stupid thought.  
Turning around I saw Dr. Franklin walking in my direction, folloime?  
  
"Yip, yip, wyooow…"  
Bronx was storming around the corner with sparkling eyes (how can eyes without pupils actually _sparkle_?), arrived at the infirmary bed and placed his huge paws onto the stretcher.  
I reached out and began stroking him behind the ears. A delightful sigh was the reply, followed by a warm tongue licking my other hand. Is this gargoyle a big baby or what?  
  
Grinning I slid from the bed and gave him a big hug.  
"Hey pal. Haven´t seen you in _ages_!"  
  
"Chris! You´re up!"  
  
For an instant I thought Bronx had spoken.  
But no, of course not, what a stupid thought.  
Turning around I saw Dr. Franklin walking in my direction, followed by Garibaldi.  
And Ivanova.  
AND Sinclair.  
  
Glancing at their faces I realised I was in _big_ trouble. 

-----ooooo-----

"Ten! He beat ten of my men up before we could get him under control!"  
I rested my head in my hands and groaned.  
"Oh gods, I´m so sorry. I didn´t intend to take _anyone_ with me, but it was an emergency situation."  
  
Garibaldi´s face softened a little, but it was still dead serious. Sinclair nodded in my direction.  
"We´d like to hear your side of the story."  
  
I began with Bester, his offer and the escape from the lab. They exchanged glances.  
"This little...crab!" Ivanova hissed furiously, "I´d like to..."  
The Commander raised his hand and she fell silent.  
"He´d caught Bronx. What happened next?"  
This part was still a bit misty.  
"I´m not sure, somehow I opened the portal and was pulled inside. Before it closed again, Bester did something to my mind, put some sort of block in. I arrived in this other dimension without any memory of my former life."  
  
"What other dimension?" Garibaldi asked.  
"X-Men." I replied and - seeing the blank faces around me - I added.  
"Earth by the beginning of the 21. century. A new breed of humans began to appear, individuals gifted with strange and fantastic abilities simply by virtue of their genetic makeup."  
This sounded like a comic book, but I didn´t really care.  
"Some of them believe they should rule, and that open conflict with the human majority is inevitable. Others – they call themself "X-Men" – try to prevent this. There was a fight and I had to move us out of there at once. It was a split-second-decision. Nothing else to do."  
  
Dr. Franklin continued stirring his coffee.  
"Why here?"  
"Excuse me?"  
"Why didn´t you take them to your home dimension, or someplace else? Why bringing them here, where Bester was probably still around, trying to catch you again?"  
  
I sat back and frowned.  
He was right.  
Why the B5-dimension?  
Certainly my own appartment would have provided enough protection for a short period of time.  
"I…I don´t know. I don´t recall making a conscious decision about the destination."  
The words of a weird dialog appeared at the corner of my mind.  
[Where to?]  
_I don´t care. Somewhere save.  
_  
Babylon 5, of all places.  
  
"Anyway..." I shook my head, "Can I see them now?"

-----ooooo-----

Professor X was sitting on a bench, apparently in meditation. He opened his eyes when I entered the prison cell.  
Garibaldi stepped in behind me and raised an eyebrow.  
I nodded and he growled something and left.  
  
The professor pointed to the door.  
"Telepaths don´t seem to be very popular here."  
I shook my head and reached for the chair standing in a corner of the tiny room.  
"Not really. But Garibaldi is definitely one of the good guys."  
"How are you?"  
"Fine, thanks. You?"  
He smiled.  
"I didn´t try to fight a dozen security men. What happened to Logan?"  
"They put him in a high security cell on another level. He´s still unconscious, but will be okay."  
"Did you regain full access to your memories?"  
"More or less. A few events are still a little cloudy, but at least I know who I am again."  
"And where you are?"  
  
I grinned.  
"Yeah, even that. I take it you already figured out the parallel-dimension-thing."  
"It crossed my mind once or twice. But I´d be glad if you gave me a quick briefing concerning this…" he raised an eyebrow and made a gesture that included the room, "… hospitable locality."

-----ooooo-----

I was just about to give him a summary of the political situation on earth and the history of the Psi-Corps, as I remembered it from the TV-Series – when suddenly there was a harsh discussion audible outside in the security office.  
The door to the prison tract opened and Talia Winters stepped in, steering firmly in the direction of the small cell.  
  
I jumped up, all of a sudden more aware than ever that the babelfish wasn´t protecting my mind against telepaths anymore.  
  
Garibaldi followed Talia into the corridor.  
"This is not your decision to make! Commander Sinclair…"  
"Commander Sinclair is not in charge here. This situation will be handled by the Psi-Corps! As the representative of the Corps on Babylon 5 I should have been informed immediately."  
  
She reached the cell and her face changed from "fighting-tigress" into "your-friendly-neighbourhood-telepath". I was still searching for a hole to hide. No doubt the professor would be able to deal with her, but what if something slipped out my mind while she was here?  
_Damn, damn, damn…  
_  
"Professor Xavier? My name is Talia Winters, I´m with the Psi Corps and will ensure you´re treated well while you´re on the station."  
  
After a brief glance at her gloved hands the professor extended his own and – somewhat startled – she shook it.  
  
"It´s a pleasure to meet you and thank you for your concern. You know Miss Stein?"  
  
She nodded in my direction without a readable expression. I nodded back, while Xavier continued.  
  
"I can assure you, Miss Winters, I have been treated well from the beginning."  
Talia´s gaze wandered through the small cell and remained on Garibaldi´s stony face for an instant, before turning back to Xavier. Even a non-telepath could "sense" the sceptism in her voice.  
"I´m glad to hear that. However, from now on, the Psi Corps will be responsible for you. You will find that we take good care of our people."  
  
"'Our people' would be telepaths?"  
"Certainly. If you would accompany me, I´ll tell you why the Corps was created and explain our motivations."  
  
"I´m afraid the construction of this station won´t allow me to use my wheelchair. Dr. Franklin mentioned a special hover chair, though, he wanted to make available for me while I am on Babylon 5."  
  
Talia thought for a moment, then nodded.  
"I will make sure you´ll get it immediately. Is there anything else you need?"  
"No, thank you. But I would like to see the man who arrived here with me. His name is Logan."  
"Is he a telepath, too?"  
"No, but like me he is a mutant."  
"I´ll see what I can do. If you´ll excuse me now, I´ll get in contact with a few people and will inform you about the outcome as soon as possible."  
"I would appreciate it."  
  
With another brief glance at me she turned around and marched out, ignoring Garibaldi, who rolled his eyes and followed her out of the prison tract.  
  
When the door had closed again, I exhaled and collapsed onto the chair.  
"I don´t believe this! How could I forget her?!"  
Xavier leaned back against the wall.  
"So Miss Winters is a collegue of Mr. Bester, the man who sealed your mind before you came to New York."  
"Yes. I didn´t meet her last time. But I had the Babelfish then and she wouldn´t have been able to read my mind anyway. Shit, I hope she didn´t pick anything up. I could kick myself for forgetting all about her. She´s only a P5, far from being as…capable as Bester, but still…"  
The professor raised his hand.  
"Don´t worry, she didn´t read your mind. My mental shields were strong enough to protect both of us."  
"Oh. Good. Did she try to spy?"  
"I wouldn´t call it "spying", rather a careful test of my abilities. As you said, her own mind powers wouldn´t allow her to go deeper than that."  
"Nor do the rules of the Psi-Corps. In this dimension telepaths are forbidden to scan anyone without their knowledge."  
"Yes, that´s an information she transferred during the conversation. It seems the regulations of this "Corps" are very strict."  
"Depends on which rank you have in the organisation…" I mumbled, remembering a couple of Bester´s actions in the series.  
  
A hiss indicated that the outer door had opened again and only an instant later Commander Sinclair was standing at the open cell door.  
"Professor Xavier."  
"Commander Sinclair."  
My eyes wandered from one man to the other.  
"You´ve already met."  
Sinclair smiled.  
"Babylon 5 can be a strange place at times, but not even here is it considered normal for visitors from other dimensions to fall from ceilings. After you´d passed out and Mr. Logan had been…calmed down there was only one person left to answer our questions."  
Xavier shrugged.  
"Unfortunately there wasn´t much I could tell you."  
  
Sinclair produced a small device from his pocket and handed it to Xavier.  
"Dr. Franklin asked me to give you this. It´s the remote control for the hover chair, which will be brought in a few minutes. Oh, here it is."  
  
A man in a medical overall stuck his head in and something that looked like a huge metallic ball hovered into the tiny room.  
"Um…Commander? May I?"  
"Of course. We´ll wait outside."  
Sinclair and I squeezed through the small gap the hover chair had left and stood near the door leading outside while the medical officer helped Xavier into the flying "walking aid".  
Only moments later the professor glided outside. With the chair hovering only inches over the floor it looked almost like he was using a normal wheelchair. The elegant turn revealed Xavier´s experience with this sort of equipment.  
  
Sinclair stepped forward.  
"I can see you get along with the hover chair."  
"Yes, thank you for providing it."  
"I´m glad I could help. Talia Winters just left when I came and mentioned you wanted to see Mr. Logan…"  
"Is he awake yet?"  
"I´m afraid not. But according to Dr. Franklin he will be very shortly. If you want to follow me, I´ll take you to him."  
  
The professor nodded.  
"Certainly. Please lead the way."  
  
There was an uncomfortable thought lurking at the corner of my mind, but it was gone before I could grasp it, so I shook my head and followed both into the corridor.

* * *

Part 2

Logan´s chest rose and sank – the only visible movement of his body. Several bruises from the fight and a once deep PPG wound were hardly visible anymore, to Dr. Franklin´s uttermost astonishment.  
  
"If everyone on this station healed as quickly as this man, I'd be searching for a new job by now." he remarked with a wink and handed the nurse a tablet with various instruments. She took it and left the room, while he leaned back against the wall, folding his arms and watching Xavier curiously.  
"His skeleton is remarkable, I´ve never seen anything like it."  
Sinclair raised an eyebrow.  
"What do you mean?"  
The doctor could hardly control his enthusiasm.  
"Every single bone in his body is covered with some sort of metal. I ran a scan, but it doesn´t resemble any metal we have on earth. Maybe the other races have something similar, but of flesh and non-organic material is highly unusual."  
  
"It´s called 'adamantium'." the professor remarked calmly and steered the hover chair to the stretcher.  
"An indestructible form of metal, grafted to his skeleton, together with retractable adamantium claws, which are hidden in his forearms."  
  
I noted Xavier´s interested glance at the medical devices around the unconscious Logan and assumed he already knew how to interpret the blinking figures on the panels.  
Apparently I was right.  
"Everything seems to be in order. Shouldn´t he be awake by now?"   
  
Franklin and Sinclair exchanged glances and the Commander cleared his throat.  
"We decided it would be wiser to keep him sedated until we knew more about the situation. Now that we do…doctor?"  
  
Franklin nodded and walked to the side of the stretcher, blocking my view. A quiet hissing noise was audible and the doctor stepped back again, keeping an eye on the monitor above Logan´s head.  
The mutant´s nose twitched, his eyelids fluttered open and with one rapid movement he was up – and the claws shot out.  
  
I heard the professor's harsh shout.  
"LOGAN!"  
  
Then, all of a sudden, the ground under my feet began to shake.

-----ooooo-----

The tremor only lasted for about 10 seconds, but was strong enough to throw the small medical items through the air, make even the few heavier pieces of furniture jump and knock the people over.  
When the room wasn´t vibrating anymore I carefully uncurled and looked up.  
"Anybody hurt?"  
  
A growled curse told me that at least Logan was well and the angry voice of Sinclair, who rapidly spoke into his communicator to find out what "the hell" had happened did just as much. Getting up I saw Dr. Franklin climbing over a slanted table, rubbing his shoulder and immediately checking if anyone needed his skills.   
The only person who was hardly affected by the whole incident was the professor whose hover chair had absorbed most of the station´s movement. He looked a bit paler than usual, though, clinging to the side supports of the chair that slowly sank down to its usual level.  
  
"WHERE AM I?! WHAT´S GOING ON HERE?!"  
  
Before an irritated Wolverine could tear the doctor into small pieces for trying to help him I quickly stepped between them. The growling mutant stopped where he was, but didn´t retract his metal claws.  
Suddenly Sinclair was standing next to the door, pointing his PPG in our direction.  
"Step back. NOW."  
Dr. Franklin looked hesitantly at the Commander and then at us. For a moment it seemed he wanted to say something, but then he closed his mouth and increased the distance between us instead, while the Commander slowly walked forward, not lowering his weapon.  
I was confused.  
"Why are you…?"  
  
But when I half turned to the growling Wolverine next to me, all strained face and prepared to attack, I realized how this situation had to look.  
"Wait, Commander, please! He won´t harm anyone, just give him a moment to recover. It was a rather loud "wake-up call", don´t you think?"  
  
From the other side of the room Xavier hovered silently nearer, addressing Logan with a calm voice.  
"These people are only trying to help, Logan. There is no need for a fight. We are among friends."  
  
There was a moment of silence, then I heard the sound of metal being retracted and exhaled relieved when Sinclair slowly lowered his weapon, still eyeing the uncommon visitor with suspicion.  
  
"I would appreciate it if you kept those claws of yours holstered."  
  
Wolverine growled in response, but it didn´t sound aggressive.  
Not too aggressive, that is.  
  
However, Sinclair seemed to sense the change and put the PPG away.  
His communicator bleeped and the voice of Ivanova asked if everybody was alright. The Commander glanced around quickly before raising his hand to his mouth, while Franklin picked up something small and grey from the floor next to his feet.  
  
"Yes, Lieutenant. Did you find out what happened?"  
  
"It was a space quake, but we have no idea what triggered it. Hold on a minute…" there was a pause, then her voice again, "Damage reports are coming in. Minor damages throughout the whole station, mostly broken furniture, some technical failures. A couple of injured people, but no deaths, only flesh wounds and broken limbs, as far as MedLab knows yet. They´re asking for Dr. Franklin. His com device doesn´t seem to be working."  
  
The doctor raised his hand and we could see the broken parts of his communicator.  
"On my way, Lieutenant!" he said aloud in the direction of Sinclair´s device and quickly left the room.  
  
The Commander looked from Logan to the Professor and then to me.  
"We´ll have to postpone our conversation."  
Xavier nodded.  
"Of course. I hope you won´t get any more bad news, Commander."  
  
Sinclair returned the nod and walked out.   
The door closed behind him.  
  
I watched my two travel companions, while trying to remember which B5 first season episode had space quakes in it. The professor rubbed his temples and Logan walked to the door, making sniffing noises.  
"This place smells funny! Where are we?"  
I opened my mouth to explain, then suddenly realized the opportunity of the situation:  
  
No B5 staff around, no Psi Corps, no witnesses whatsoever!  
  
We could just hop out of here without leaving a trace. The Psi Corps wouldn´t have a reason to come here (which everyone would be most grateful for, I felt), no more paperwork for the Commander and Garibaldi, no more messing with this universe´s timeline. The professor and Logan would be home again – the other mutants wouldn´t have to worry anymore.  
No further trouble for anybody!  
  
But it would have to happen quickly, while the station´s personnel was still occupied with the aftermath of this space quake!  
So instead of replying, I jumped up and turned to Xavier.  
"Professor, could you explain everything? I´ll be back in a sec!"  
With this I ran past Logan - who still stood in the open doorway watching people hurrying by - turned in the direction of the bathrooms and sped away.  
  
It took me longer than I had anticipated, mostly because I didn´t have a vessel of any kind on me in which I could transport liquid. On my way to DownBelow and Katar´s bar to get one, I ran into Bronx, who was strolling down the main shopping promenade. Humans and aliens who anxiously hurried in both directions avoided the gargoyle, who sniffed at the remains of a collapsed sweet stand and dug something out of the pile of building material, brown fabric and coloured bits and pieces of different sizes. The item Bronx was after looked like a brown stick, almost as long as my arm. I´ve never tasted this Narn specialty, but Bronx seemed to like it. He pushed it slightly over the ground, then picked it up with his fang and began chewing. I waited until I spotted an opening in the stream of people, then quickly made my way over to him.  
  
"Hey, buddy, long time no see. What have you been up to?"  
With a friendly wail he greeted me - but only briefly, because the stick took his full attention. I watched him finishing his meal, wondering if I should tell him to come with me.  
But then, a gargoyle can take care of himself - especially this gargoyle. And if he wanted to leave, he certainly could, as I'd experienced at several occasions.  
So I only patted his back, wished him a good time and turned around to continue on my way.  
  
When I came back a few minutes later he was gone. But somehow I was convinced he hadn´t gone far and would be back if I needed him.  
It was almost as if someone had told me this just a moment ago.  
What a strange thought… I mused and walked into the corridor leading to the room I'd left Xavier and Logan in.  
  
Just when the door slid open a female voice called my name.  
There was a curse on my mind and I hoped it hadn´t been 'loud' enough to be heard.  
For the woman was Talia Winters and she was walking straight towards me.

-----ooooo-----

The door closed behind us and after introducing Talia to Logan and vice versa, she turned to Xavier.  
"I described your situation to my superiors and they would like to meet you, Professor. An ambassador of the Corps is already on the way to Babylon 5 and will be here in about 36 hours."  
Before Xavier could respond Logan´s eyes narrowed.  
"Wait a minute! You belong to this Psi-Club?"  
She froze, then gave him a professional smile.  
"That would be 'Psi-Corps', Mr. Logan. I don´t know what you´ve heard about the Corps so far, but there are reasons for the existence of this organisation and the work we do is important."  
  
I was wondering how she could stick to this opinion, despite what one of her closest friends had experienced only a short time ago, being hunted by Bester like a deer... Force of habit, I supposed. Or she was still in denial. I couldn´t remember the episode in which she changed sides, became friends with Garibaldi and Ivanova but it had to be later in the series, in the middle of the war. I remembered something else about her. For some reason she would betray her friends. Why was that again? Oh right, the sleeper personality they had implanted in her mind...a few scenes of this very episode entered my mind and I began feeling sad about her fate. It was tempting to meddle in the course of events by I trusted on this station about the upcoming events, but then I'd have to tell this person about the war and why I knew all these facts – and there was always a chance that this person will make a bad decision despite their good intentions...  
  
Suddenly I realized that I'd stopped paying attention to the conversation and gave myself a mental kick in the butt. Xavier had obviously managed to calm everybody down and was now handed a code card by Talia, while Logan leaned on the stretcher, looking grumpy.   
Not long afterwards Talia left.  
  
Xavier turned the card in his hands, then gave it to me.  
With a surprised whistle I took it.  
"Wow. They don´t hand these out to just anybody. You must have made quite an impression on her, professor."  
"What is it?"  
"The key to a guest quarters in the Green section. Ambassadorial accommodations. Pretty cool, although you won´t need it. I found everything we need to..."  
  
The door opened with a hiss and one of Garibaldi´s security men stuck his head in.  
"Oh, I´m sorry. I didn´t know this room was still in use. The Chief told me to prepare it for the arrival of another..." a quick glance at Logan, "...guest."  
  
With a frown I looked at the code card in my hand, then to the security guy.  
"Er...you can have the room. We´re off." Smiling I followed the two mutants out the door and into the corridor.  
"You were saying?" Logan growled while we walked (or, in Xavier´s case "hovered") in the direction of the elevator.  
"Looks like this card could come in handy after all." I replied, eyeing the key thoughtfully. "We need a quiet place to get you home and the only one I know is a spare room down in Katar´s bar – and there would hardly be enough space for two people, so..."  
  
The elevator released two grim looking Drazi and a very relieved Centauri. We waited until the professor had manoeuvred the chair into the small cabin.  
"Green 4."

-----ooooo-----

"What about Commander Sinclair?"  
"I bet he´ll be glad about our 'departure'. No offence, professor, but unlicensed telepaths around this place always led to investigations by the Psi Corps and that´s not something these guys here look forward to."  
  
Logan snorted.  
"The sooner we get back the better! I don´t like this place one bit. And thinking of these 'Psi-guys' makes my skin crawl...but how will you take us back?"  
"This will do the trick."  
"Smells like water. Poor quality, too."  
"When the portal opens, just relax. It´s not like you could control the jump anyway."  
I dropped the lid of the bottle and looked up.  
"Ready?"  
  
Logan cocked one eyebrow.  
"What kind of magic trick is this?", but fell silent when the professor raised his hand and smiled at him. It was a somewhat weak smile and I didn´t like the weariness in it.  
But then, it had been a rather thrilling day, so who could blame him for being tired?  
  
"Okay, gentlemen, here we go…"  
I concentrated and felt the portal building up with a quiet hissing sound. And then it was hanging right in the middle of the room, a beautiful blue circle of light, the tunnel that connected dimensions, probably millions of interesting places and people.  
The tunnel that sucks you through time and space and spits you out in a different world.  
  
Only this time something was missing:  
It was the 'sucking' sensation.  
  
I went around the circle three times, but the fact remained: Whenever I came close to the opening I felt only a soft breeze, nothing like the storm that usually greeted me.  
Something was wrong.  
But maybe we could still slide?  
  
I raised my arm and stuck it into the blue opening – it went right through, I could see my hand through this side of the portal.  
  
"What are ya waiting for?"  
  
I tried again – same result.  
"Um...I don´t know how to break the news to you, but..."   
Arm in, arm out.  
No change.  
  
"It appears the portal is broken..."

* * *

Part 3

Even the professor lost his calm appearance for a moment, looking rather shocked.  
"Did this ever happen before?"  
I shook my head.  
"No. But I´m pretty new to this dimension sliding business myself, no idea what happened."  
  
"Well, I tell ya what I´ll do, kiddo!" Logan snorted and turned to the door.  
"I´m going for a walk. Inform me when you fixed this..." an indifferent wave towards the blue circle, "...portal thing."  
The door closed behind him and the professor raised an eyebrow.  
  
"You´d better follow him. He´s in a very bad mood and might cause trouble if anyone crosses him."  
"What about you?"  
His smile didn´t reach his eyes.  
"You heard what Miss Winters said. Her superiors won´t arrive here until the day after tomorrow. It seems we will all be save for the next couple of hours. Things tend to look better after a good night´s sleep."  
  
Hesitatingly I walked to the door, then looked back and saw Xavier rubbing his head again. The weary expression had returned to his face.  
"Is there something wrong, professor?"  
"Nothing serious, just a headache, Chris."  
"Shall I get Dr. Franklin?"  
"The good doctor has other problems right now. I suppose the presence of so many alien minds is the reason for my...problem, but I expect a few hours rest will help. In the meantime: Please make sure Logan´s not doing anything....rash."  
  
"Sure thing, professor." I said and hurried outside to look for the runaway.

-----ooooo-----

After living on Babylon 5 for a couple of months the station didn't appear to be that large anymore.  
Except when you´re searching for someone.  
Logan had disappeared while I was talking to Xavier and left me standing in the corridor feeling rather foolish. Where was I supposed to find him now?  
I did want to find him, but mainly because I´d promised the professor. Even in his bad mood I didn´t expect Wolverine to tear the station apart. The professor had a point, though: Logan could become very..._impolite_ when he was angry...  
A little worried I turned right and jogged down the corridor.  
  
There were only about one million places where he could be.  
  
Bronx was trotting through the stone garden, leaving huge paw prints in the already ruffled sand and joined me for a walk in the maze. Just like a dog he ran ahead, sniffed around, ran back again and tried to get my attention. He even found a stick for me to throw. It was an iron bar that weighted as much as a small star cruiser.   
He left again after he´d made sure I wasn´t doing anything _interesting_.  
  
Due to the space quake the casino was rather empty. A drunk human was peacefully snoring at the bar, head resting on his folded arms, and a Centauri was swaying through the room with a glass in his hand, apparently not 100% sober either. His clothes looked extremely familiar.  
Since I wasn´t in the mood to hear stories about the rise and fall of the Centauri empire I turned around quickly and left before Londo could spot me.  
  
The Red section had gone back to normal, with the most popular meeting rooms filled with travellers and business people, discussing shipping conditions and terms of payment.  
It almost appeared as if the space quake had never happened.  
  
Med Lab´s personnel on the other hand couldn´t complain about boredom either. The place was buzzing like a bee hive. Nurses were walking through the rows of hastily erected stretchers, taking care of the patients and checking the panels above their heads. The infirmary didn´t appear gloomy, though. Most people had only minor injuries and were chatting with their families or the staff.  
No new security people with fresh claw cuts in sight – apparently Wolverine was behaving himself.  
  
Wherever the hell he was.  
  
_If this was a movie he´d be seen leaning against a bar counter with a cigar stump in the mouth, while the bartender refilled his glass with w...  
_  
The solution hit me like a train at full speed.

-----ooooo-----

"He said he was a friend of yours." Katar whispered in my ear and threw another uncertain glance at the gloomy looking man at his counter who only moved to lift his glass.  
"I had no idea where you were, but...if you´d seen his eyes...well, let´s just say I believed him! Now could you please get him out of here? He´s frightening my customers away."  
  
Considering that most of Katar´s customers lived in places similar to the Shades in Ankh-Morpork that was rather impressive.  
I walked over to the other side of the counter, which laid in semi darkness and slid onto the barstool next to the grim looking shadow.  
"Hey."  
He barely moved his head.  
"Any news?"  
"About the portal? No. You´ll have to stay for the night, I´m afraid. The professor´s in your quarters...we´ll work something out tomorrow."  
"Hrrmm."  
I took the code card out of my pocket and flipped it in the direction of his glass. The crystal brown liquid shivered slightly.  
"Can you find your way back?"  
He only glared at me.  
"Never mind. Just a question."  
I pushed the uncomfortable barstool back and got up. Logan turned around, spinning the card between two fingers.  
"You think they take American dollars here?"  
  
I grinned.  
"Don´t worry about the bill. Just try not to scare any more customers with..." I imitated his expression, "...this 'get-closer–and-I´ll-kill-ya'-look, okay?"  
He grunted again, lifted his glass and poured the brown liquid down his throat. Then he stood up and threw Katar the very same look before catching up with me.  
"Maybe I should accompany you. This is a dangerous neighbourhood."  
  
"I´ll only be walking around the block looking for Bronx. He loves to roam DownBelow, especially the areas behind pubs and restaurants. We´ll go for a short evening walk and come back here later. Behind Katar´s counter is a room where I usually stay, so don´t worry about me."  
  
He didn´t respond and together we stepped out of the bar.  
I felt the eyes of a dozen people in my back, almost heard the collective sigh of relief.  
  
We walked down the corridor towards the cargo area in silence.   
At a corner Logan took my arm and sniffed the air. With a disgusted grumble he pointed to another corridor that led to the lifts going to the next level.  
"Let´s go this way."  
He sniffed again while pulling me with him.  
"My nose tells me there's trouble brewing down there."  
Looking back I could see nothing unusual, only a few shadows of people crossing the cargo bay on the way to other parts of the station.  
Some of the twitching shadows looked strange somehow, but then there were enough aliens aboard who could produce them.  
Still, _this_ one over there...  
  
It disappeared around the corner like the others when Logan led me out of the cargo bay.  
  
We found Bronx on the way back to the Green section. He hadn´t lost his iron bar, but this time Logan was with me and he could throw the damn thing at least over the next two walls of the maze. A few minutes later we arrived at the quarters the Psi Corps had offered and with the huge gargoyle-dog at my side it was easy to convince Logan that I didn´t need an escort back to my own guestroom.

-----ooooo-----

An evening walk on Babylon 5 makes you feel like visiting a car cemetery at night. The lights are dim or completely down in the poorer parts, where no one bothers building resting areas with plants and benches the broken equipment looks like the remains of an attack.  
It won´t be repaired in a hurry, because no one important will ever go there. People (humans and aliens alike) build small huts from the garbage in which they sleep.  
All that´s left to complete the depressing picture would be rain rattling against the few dirty windows in the area.  
But the black emptiness does a pretty good job already.  
  
Suddenly the walls start to tremble.  
An iron log on the floor twitches, rolls a few inches into the room, then hits a silver cargo box with a deep hole in the side.  
The mild quake is followed by a violent hit that makes the log jump. It throws the lid of the broken box which flips over in midair and drops to the ground.  
A shadow falls on the trembling pieces of equipment.  
  
There are cries in a distance, but the dark figure doesn´t turn around.  
It moves its head to the side like a dog listening to a sound only he can hear. The material of its helmet shimmers greenish, although most lights had gone off during the last tremor.  
  
The voice sounds artificial, an emotionless croak in the dark:  
"They MUST leave!"

-----ooooo-----

The first face that came into focus early next morning was Logan´s.  
With a surprised gasp I jumped out of my bunk, hitting my head on the shelf above. One hand on the bump I rolled out of the danger zone.  
"What happened?!"   
  
I'd never seen him that angry before.  
"Two guys wearing the same uniform as this Psi Club woman rang the doorbell this morning asking to see the professor. When I told them to..._get lost_...they..."  
  
"What?!"  
"They _made me_ open the door!"  
"But how..." The mental picture formed and it wasn´t nice.  
"Oh..."  
"_Yes!_ Tell me about their weaknesses. I want to ram my claws into this damn smiling face of the little man..."  
_...smiling face...little man...oh shit...  
_I grabbed my pullover and followed the growling mutant out the spare room into the deserted bar. Only a small part of my brain registered the cuts in the metal door while racing through it.  
Any lurker could see the broken door and get in to steal something, but the money was safe and Katar would survive if he missed a few bottles – and who knew what happened when it was indeed Bester who´d forced entry into the mutants´ quarters.

-----ooooo-----

I don´t know how long it took us to get back to the Green section, but it must have been a new record.  
  
Bester was a blood hound.  
If he sniffed a scent, there was no one who could stop him.  
No one?  
I was still hoping the professor was more powerful than any of the Psi Cop bunch, but how could I be sure?  
'The most powerful telepath on earth.'  
Right, that´s what internet sources tell you – but what if you put him into an environment that had its own telepaths and people with the education to control them?  
Even with his superhuman abilities Talia´s friend Jason had feared Bester and his men.   
Rightly so, as it had turned out.  
  
Finally the door of the guest quarters came into view.  
  
Two young men in Psi Cop uniforms were just stepping outside and we stopped in front of them.  
While I did my best catching my breath Logan started to growl.  
The Psi Cops exchanged surprised glances, then looked back at us.  
  
"What the...?"  
  
The young man hesitated when six steel claws hissed out of the knuckles of their owner.  
  
I stepped forward. These two guys were still wet behind the ears. They should at least have a chance to answer our questions.  
"Where´s the professor? What did you do to him?"  
  
"Professor?"  
They looked at each other again, then threw a glance through the open door back into the room.  
A pause indicated telepathic communication with someone inside, then the two young Cops moved away from the door. A third man in the same uniform stepped out.  
Logan´s growl became angrier and I almost joined in.  
  
The man nodded in my direction.  
"Miss Stein. What a _pleasure_ to see you again."  
  
I had a brief vision of me taking Bester on one of my trips – to a dimension where I could introduce him to someone like Hannibal Lecter.  
The doc surely wouldn´t mind having him for lunch.  
Literally.  
  
"You _have_ to find a way to control these violent emotions, my dear. They are extremely unproductive. I would suggest therapy."  
He glanced at Logan and raised an eyebrow while the two young men behind him paled.  
"You better take your friend, too. His thoughts would be considered _offensive_ at least. I´m afraid I´ll have to report them to Mr. Garibaldi if you don´t calm down, sir."  
  
Logan stepped forward and raised an arm before I could react, but I saw Bester´s face and didn´t wonder why the mutant suddenly stopped, the claws trembling only inches in front of the man´s nose.  
  
I hadn´t thought about how to deal with Bester if we were to meet him. And now we were standing here without a plan.  
Great work.  
You would think I had learned a thing or two from my previous encounters with the guy.  
  
But I could curse myself later.  
"Where´s the professor?"  
  
Was it just my imagination or did the Cop look somehow...discontented?  
He kept his eyes on Logan, but from this angle I could also see that they narrowed.  
  
"I don´t know what you thought to achieve with this charade, but I´ll find it out soon enough, believe me. Now..."  
  
He stepped back, waved his men and turned around.  
"...you´ll have to excuse me – I have an appointment with Miss Winters. I might drop by later to chat about old times."  
  
When the small group walked around the next corner Logan stirred again. He growled in frustration, pulled the claws back in and hammered against the wall with his fist. I nudged him lightly and pointed to the door of the guest apartment which had closed when Bester had left the space that triggered the opening mechanism.  
  
The room was dark. Someone was sitting at the table, holding a small object to his face.  
What was going on?  
Was the professor hurt?  
Why didn´t he say anything?  
  
"Lights." I croaked and brightness floated through the room.  
The person at the table was indeed Professor Xavier, apparently unharmed, and the small object a glass, which he examined with great interest.   
But something was different. I couldn´t put my finger on it, though.  
  
He looked up when the lights went on and I couldn´t help wondering about the surprise in his eyes.  
Surprise about the lights being turned on by a verbal order?  
  
Logan walked closer to Xavier.  
"Professor? Are you alright?"  
He halted and sniffed.  
Xavier stopped the examination and put the glass down carefully before he looked at us and sighed.  
"You must mistake me for someone else. The other gentlemen also did. My name is Henry Grey."  
  
Another look at our blank faces, another sigh.  
  
"You _must_ know my name! Henry Grey - Duke of Suffolk."

* * *

  
  
Part 4

  
  
Logan looked back at the closed door and sniffed the air again.  
"You can drop the act now, Charles. They´re gone."  
  
I let out a sigh of relief. So he was just pretending.  
Why, of course he was!  
How could I just for a minute believe that Bester got the better of him?  
Xavier had lifted the glass again, smiling.  
"Did you import this from Venice? I have to admit it´s a fine piece. You must tell me the name of the craftsman who created it."  
  
_"That´s not funny, Chuck!"_  
  
The man at the table tried to push himself up from the chair, but fell back. His eyes cleared.  
"What happened to my legs? Who are you people? Did you abduct me to extort money from my family? Be assured that the Greys have never bargained with enemies of the crown and never will! The king has beheaded many outlaws who didn´t learn this lesson in time!"  
  
His eyes widened when he heard Logan´s growl. The dark-haired mutant put both hands down on the table and stared at the man who looked like the professor. "Duke of Suffolk? Enemies of the crown? King? What _king_?!"  
  
The other man only glared.  
"Why, King Edward VI, of course."  
He tried again to get up, but collapsed back into the chair.  
  
"Did you bewitch my body to keep me still? Be warned, my dear sirs, the king does not tolerate treachery nor magic in his country!"  
I cocked an eyebrow.  
"And who exactly are you calling _'sir'_ here?"  
Logan grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the table.  
"What the _hell_ is going on?"  
"I don´t know. Was he like this when you left?"  
Logan glared at me.  
"Do you think I forgot to mention having breakfast with _Richard Lionheart_ over there?!"  
We glanced at the man in the hover chair, who made another useless attempt to stand up.  
"No, I mean...was he different this morning? Disoriented or something?"  
Logan shook his head.  
"He was fine until these Psi guys came! I thought you´d dealt with them before! What did they do to him?!"  
Remembering Bester´s words I only shrugged helplessly.  
"I´m not even sure they´ve got anything to do with our..."  
There was a repressed curse from the direction of the table, where Xavier had almost managed to fall off the chair.  
"...situation. Anyway, I better go get Dr. Franklin. Maybe he can help."  
Logan didn´t release the grip around my arm.  
"You don´t expect me to trust anyone on this station with the life of the professor, do you?!"  
I waited until he let go.  
"No idea if the portal is working today, but do you want to take him home like this?"  
With a cry of frustration Xavier threw the glass against the wall and began yelling imprecations against the "dark powers" that held him captive.  
"If only we _could_ do magic." Logan murmured, rubbing his forehead, "I know which part of his body I would 'bewitch' to keep him _'still'_." 

-----ooooo-----

"My diagnosis would be schizophrenia. In this case, however, it´s not very likely. The symptoms don´t appear out of nowhere, not even under extreme stress. You´re sure he never showed them before?"  
  
Logan shook his head.  
"I would know."  
  
With a serious expression Franklin put the instruments back in his bag.  
"I will check my archives, but you might want to consult a telepath..."  
His gaze met Logan´s, but the doctor didn´t flinch at the expression on the mutant´s face.  
"I know the circumstances look suspicious, but I´ve never heard of a technique to change a person´s personality so thoroughly in such a short time."  
  
"He´s had a headache for some time already." I reminded him. "What if they started sooner than we think?"   
Franklin shook his head and leaned against the table next to the now empty hover chair.  
"Impossible. For this kind of brain washing the person performing it would have to be in the same room for a long period of time. Days, even weeks, depending on the mental strength of the victim. Bester may be a strong telepath, but since he just arrived on the station you can bury that theory."  
  
I kicked a cushion back on the couch.  
"And Talia Winters had more time, but is not strong enough to do it."  
  
The doctor sighed.  
"What do you have against Talia anyway? Just because Bester is a poor example for whatever the Psi Corps stands for doesn´t mean she´s the same type. I would suggest you ask her to take a look at your friend. This is a strange case and it could prove helpful to hear more than one opinion. Just a thought. I´ll inform you about the results of my research as soon as possible."  
  
"Thank you, Stephen. See you later." 

-----ooooo-----

The room turned quiet after he left.  
  
Logan paced silently to and fro in front of the closed bedroom door, behind which the professor (or rather the "Duke of Suffolk") was snoring peacefully, thanks to an impressive amount of sedatives running through his veins.  
  
I leaned back on the couch and stared at the ceiling.  
  
This slide wasn´t going to become a highlight of my travels.  
I could be happy if everyone – myself included - got out of this mess in one piece – physically _and_ mentally.  
  
Who was I trying to fool?  
This situation was _way_ out of my league!  
I'd brought two people to a dimension they weren´t familiar with and one of them had already snapped. By the look of it the other one was close to follow. _"That´s not fair."_ my own unnerved mind told me.  
_"The professor has certainly experienced weirder stuff than this – he wouldn´t just "snap". Same goes for Logan. There _must_ be another explanation!"_ Which brought me back to Bester. What had happened while he was alone with the professor? Had he found Xavier´s mind too powerful?  
Maybe the cop hadn´t been able to convince him of his "noble" quest for a better world for telepaths (wasn´t there a familiar ring to the subject?) and dropped some sort of "mind bomb" instead.  
But then his reaction didn´t fit.  
  
Logan dropped onto a nearby chair.  
"As far as I can see we have two problems."  
"Mhm? Only two? I can see a whole army of them..."  
"Number one: We need to find out what happened to the professor – and undo it. Number two: We need to get home."  
"Which leads to the question if Bester´s got the info we need, how do we get it from him without being mind-shredded halfway down the road and – always assuming we´re on the right track – _if_ there is a way to change it at all."  
The mutant waved my objection away.  
"We need more information, that´s for sure. But if we´re lucky, Bester´s not the only source we can use. What about those little whelps circling around him?"  
I shook my head.  
"He wouldn´t share any valid information with them. Not his style."  
Wolverine flashed me a wolfish grin.  
"Sometimes people pick things up...a careless word here, a thought leaking out there...they might know more than they think...and _I_ know _several_ ways to make people remember..."  
If the situation hadn´t been so serious I'd have laughed out loud.  
"Yeah, right! As if you would harm those boys – they´re not more than teenagers. Just two inexperienced telepaths on a field trip."  
Logan didn´t object.  
"There are other sources. Take this woman..."  
"Talia Winters?"  
"Right. You think she´s got anything to do with this?"  
I thought for a moment.  
"No, I don´t suppose she has."  
"It might be a mistake to rule her out right away. At least she can tell us about her little conversation with Bester..."  
Frowning, I checked the time. It was already two o´clock in the afternoon. Our "meeting" with Bester had been hours ago.  
"That could be interesting indeed. If we can persuade her to tell us..."  
"Leave that to me." came the answering growl. "I can be _extremely_ persuasive!"  
  
A sudden vision flashed through my mind:  
_Logan standing in front of Talia, glaring and growling at her.  
"Tell me everything or else..."  
Her cold response.  
"What could you possibly do, Mr. Logan?"  
A brief pause, then  
"I could...""...remove my shirt."  
Her raised eyebrow when he´s doing just that, the reply after a few seconds of open admiration of his attractive features.  
"All right, what do you want to know?"_  
  
"What´s so _funny_?!"  
The picture vanished and I had the decency to blush before regaining control over my facial expression.  
"Nothing. Some sort of muscle spasm. Happens from time to time. Where do we start?"  
He didn´t look convinced, but came back to the point.  
  
"Fullfilling doctor´s orders. I´ll bring Talia Winters here and keep an eye on her while she examines the professor."  
"Okay. What about me?"  
"You´ll fix this portal. I don´t want to stay here any longer. If we have to, we´ll take him home and think of something then. Now get to it, okay?"  
"But how...?"  
"I don´t _know_! Try different sorts of water. Hell, throw a few bottles of beer into it. Or feed it with some innocent bystanders, if you must! Just fix the damn thing!"  
_Feeding innocent bystanders?_ Better not contradict an angry Wolverine.  
"Um...right."  
  
The doorbell chirmed, followed by a loud screeching noise.  
"Come in."  
  
It slid open and Bronx, all cheerfulness and wagging tail, burst in, followed by a sober looking Jeffrey Sinclair, who took the hand from his right ear just as he was entering the quarters.  
"I'd be grateful if you could tell Bronx not to scratch on doors anymore. The designers of this station didn´t construct it for the needs of gargoyles.   
They thought their special metal alloy would be strong enough to withstand the usual obstacles of space station routine. You know, like meteors or enemy fire..."  
The humour in his eyes softened the sarcastic tone of his voice.  
  
I greeted Sinclair with a smile, then kneeled down in front of the panting gargoyle.  
"You heard the Commander, Bronx. No more scratching or digging through walls, understand? We´d all be in a lot of trouble if B5 fell apart because of you..."  
  
Bronx wailed and brushed his muzzle against my face.  
"Yeah, missed you, too. Would you be quiet for a moment if I turned the TV on for you?"  
Getting to my feet I found both men staring after my blue-ish friend who´d stopped wailing and turned towards the living room area, where he dropped his impressive muscle mass next to the couch facing a black monitor.  
  
Logan watched the Gargoyle scratching himself behind the ear, before looking back as if to remind me to turn on the entertainment machine.  
"He...understands you?"  
  
On a verbal order the TV came to life, showing some sort of boxing match between two aliens I couldn´t identify. The volume was off, so they circled each other in perfect silence, while taking a punch every now and then. With a heavy dog sigh Bronx placed his head between his paws, eyes without pupils glued to the silent struggle of the boxers.  
  
"No, I don´t think so. But I bet he knows the word "TV", among others, to which he responds. He´s a dog after all."  
  
"Some dog." the mutant growled and not for the first time today I asked myself what was wrong with him. Comics and movies stated that Wolverine usually kept his cool even in the most dangerous situations and this one – although problematic and certainly scary – could not be compared to what he had already gone through.  
Maybe it was because he felt responsible for the professor – what I also had to take into account was that this time he was neither part of a team sharing this kind of responsibility nor alone, only taking care of his own life. He was probably thinking he needed to protect me as well! Then we certainly had to have a talk soon!  
Maybe...  
  
"However..." the Commander cleared his throat, "...that´s not the reason for my visit. I heard Professor Xavier has a...medical problem."  
"It´s not exactly..."  
_"Medical problem?!"_ Logan put his hands down on the table, hard.  
"These Psi guys of yours are the ones responsible for his "problem"! Next time I see this Bester-"  
He broke off when Sinclair took three quick steps, stopping at the other side of the table. His voice was cold.  
"These Psi-Cops, Mr. Logan, do _not_ belong to my staff, nor do I welcome the idea of them staying here. But since the professor has telepathic abilities, like it or not, he falls into their range of influence."  
"Did Dr. Franklin find anything?" I asked hopefully. Maybe we didn´t need to consult Talia Winters after all.  
Sinclair continued staring at Logan who stared back.  
"I´m afraid not."  
  
Both men turned when Bronx let out a howl. The gargoyle had scrambled to his feet and was facing the bedroom, TV and boxing match forgotten.  
"What the..."  
  
A curse behind the door indicated that the sedatives had run out.  
I sighed and followed the gargoyle who had stopped in front of the closed sleeping room door, sniffing the air with a curious look on his face.  
He was the first to enter the room when it slid open. I only realized how big a mistake this was when a terrified scream echoed through the room, coming from the man in the bed on the sight of a horned blue-ish face raising above his head and two huge clawed paws pressing the bedding down to the ground in an attempt to satisfy the creature´s curiousity.  
  
"Bronx!" I cried aghast, "Down! NOW!"  
  
The gargoyle hopped back a little, trying to figure out what was going on.  
Logan grabbed my shoulders and firmly steered me out of the way before walking over to Bronx, reaching for a horn and pulling the confused animal out of the room.  
It took the man in the bed a few more seconds to catch his breath.  
"What- what-"  
  
"A hunting dog." I said quickly, giving him my best innocent smile.  
"Special breed. For wild boars. As you can see, they aren´t kept for their looks."  
  
"A demon! This is a demon dog!"  
  
"Well, you know the wild boars _I´m_ talking about-"  
  
"You are right." The calm voice came from the door. I turned and shot Sinclair a "what-the-hell-are-you-doing"-look, which he ignored. Instead, he walked to the other side of the bed with a serious expression.  
The man in the bed glared.  
"A demon. You breed demons. You sacrifice your soul-"  
"Oh, not like you think." the Commander continued in a lighter voice. "They are creatures of the light, bred to _fight_ demons – all kinds of hellish creatures, actually. You must be Henry Grey." Whilst bowing he introduced himself.  
"My name is Jeffrey Sinclair."  
  
Far from being convinced about the matter at hand, the other man snorted.  
"This creature certainly looks like the devil himself!"  
"You have to admit, nobody would take this animal for a fighter for the good side. Therefore we have a great advantage when we run into _real_ demons."  
  
Most surprisingly – at least for me – this argument hit home. The professor settled back in his pillows, colour returning to his face. It looked as if we were getting away with this ridiculous story. Then Xavier´s eyes narrowed and mistrust returned to his face.  
"Protestant or catholic?"  
Sinclair shrugged.  
"Does it matter?"  
"It does, my dear sir. At least to members of the aristocracy, to which I trust you belong as well."  
  
My expression must have been priceless, but fortunately Logan´s return took the last bit of attention off me.  
He closed the door firmly behind him, ignoring the sudden thump of something heavy banging against it. The following scratching and wailing sounded familiar. Xavier´s face changed to a brighter shade of grey - no pun intended.  
Murmuring "Maybe I should..." I slipped past Logan back into the other room. No one seemed to notice.  
Bronx´ ears went up instantly and I could hardly push the massive creature away from the door. Finally I grabbed his chin and forced him to look me into the eyes.  
"Bronx! Listen to me. Back. Off. Understood?"  
  
He shook his whole body in dismay, then sat on his hindlegs with a pleading expression and raised a paw, almost knocking me off my feet.  
"Woof!"  
  
Their quiet voices were audible behind the closed sleeping room door and with a pang of disappointment I realized the guys were able to handle the situation without my help.  
Fine then.  
I had my hands full anyway.  
Couldn´t take care of everything, could I?  
So I sat next to Bronx on the floor and began scratching him behind his ears until he laid down on the side, growling with pleasure.  
"You are a big baby, aren´t you?" I said softly, letting my hand wander through his horns and up the small scales on the back of his head.  
"A huge blue baby with fangs, but still..."  
The door opened. With a grim expression Logan stepped out.  
"The..._Duke_ wishes to see the..._fortress of light."_  
"Huh?"  
Shutting the door with one hand the mutant walked over to us and sank into a chair.  
"Apparently this..." a gesture to the general suroundings, "...is some sort of outpost holding up against evil creatures sent by..." My eyes followed the direction of his forefinger.  
"Since we´re on a space station it´s not necessarily hell you´re pointing to, you know."  
He glared at me and I raised my hands in defense.  
"Alright, alright. So he went with the "creatures-from-hell-story", mhm? Was there at least a blond female involved, who kills them with wooden stakes?"  
He continued glaring, then got up.  
"You´re all crazy! This place is a freaking nut-house and everyone here´s turning into a lunatic!"  
"Come on, I was just kidding. I do that a lot when I´m afraid. Actually it helps in _preserving_ my mental health. What´s wrong with you anyway? Shouldn´t _you_ be the one cracking dry jokes about the situation? Really, your seriousness is freaking me out!"  
"Maybe I´ll turn back to my cheerful self when we´re home."  
I grinned.  
"Thank you. That´s _so_ much better!"  
He rolled his eyes, but actually seemed more relaxed.  
"What about the portal?"  
I jumped.  
"Oh, damn! I forgot. Sorry."  
  
Racing out of the room I heard a heavy sigh.  
"Right. As if this was _important_ in _any_ way."

* * *

  
  
Part 5

  
  
The station was shaking once more when I walked back to the guest quarters, balancing the glass of water until the mild space quake died down. Logan had already moved the furniture out of the way.  
"Where´s Bronx?"  
"Lost him in DownBelow. Don´t worry. He can take care of himself."  
"Whatever. You got what you need?"  
"Um...I hope so. Where´s the professor? And Commander Sinclair?"  
"Told ya: Visiting the "fortress of light". I wanted to be sure this is working before he gets to see a blue circle taking him to another dimension."  
"What made you change your mind about Sinclair?"  
"Mhmm...let´s just say I like his smell better on, we´ve got work to do! Everything ready?"  
"Yeah. Step back a little, so you won´t be sucked in..."  
  
Only seconds later the beautiful circle of blue light took shape in the middle of the living room.  
  
What makes you think it worked this time?  
Of course it didn´t.  
Arm in, arm out.  
Nothing.  
The sucking sensation may have been a little stronger, but for some reason it wasn´t strong enough to take anyone over the border.  
  
After a couple of minutes the circle collapsed, leaving nothing but an image of light behind my eyelids and a knot in my stomach. What if this was never going to work again?  
Would I have to stay on B5 for the rest of my life? And what about Logan and the professor? They were both needed back in their own dimension – what if I wasn´t able to find a way back?  
A thought on the back of my mind was about to give me a little comfort, but before I could grasp it, Logan had hammered both fists against the wall in frustration.  
With a dangerous look he turned around.  
"We´ll try this until it works!" 

-----ooooo-----

It must have been the 6th or 7th time the blue glow brightened the guest quarters when the BabCom screen suddenly lit, showing the blinking "Incoming message"-sign. With my concentration gone the dimension gate buzzed and vanished.  
I climbed over a chair and pressed a button. The alarmed face of Commander Sinclair appeared.  
"Chris, you and Mr. Logan must come to MedLab 3 immediately!"  
"What happened? Is it the professor? Is he hurt?"  
"We´re not sure." came the grim reply, "In fact, we´re more concerned about the people he´s holding hostage in the operation room." 

-----ooooo-----

"What kind of weapon?"

The trembling nurse couldn´t respond right away.  
"A...a scalpel. It...it was still lying there...from the last operation...he grabbed Louise and..."  
  
"Let me give you something to calm you down, Doris."  
  
With a gesture Garibaldi stopped the doctor.  
"Please, doc. I´ll be finished in a minute." He turned back to the nurse.  
"What happened then?"  
  
Doris sniffed and wiped fresh tears from her cheeks.  
"He held the scalpel against hi-his throat...Louise´s th-throat I mean...and said he wo-would kill her if the...the others didn´t go...into the operation room."  
She looked miserably at the chief of security.  
"We did what he said."  
  
"You did the right thing." Garibaldi assured her, then stepped out of Franklin´s way who began speaking softly to the sobbing woman. The chief turned to three of his men and listened to their reports.  
  
I wasn´t surprised to see Logan next to Sinclair at a table nearby, studying something on a computer screen. The infirmary was filled with security personnel. Some interviewed nurses and doctors, while others watched the door of the operation room, hands on their PPGs, in case the hostage-taker decided to send another person out – or tried to leave himself. There wasn´t a window like it in many other MedLab rooms.  
  
"If we could get somebody through this ventilation shaft into the storage room here..."  
Stepping closer to Sinclair and Logan I saw that the picture on screen was a blueprint of the area. Logan´s finger followed the line that was probably the shaft he was talking about. When he reached the side of the map the picture changed to a close-up of a room with three beds in it. The shaft ended in a side room the size of a closet. A door separated them.  
The Commander shook his head.  
"Unfortunately the shaft isn´t big enough for a man."  
"It could be used to conduct gas in there." murmured Garibaldi, who´d joined the party from behind. The three guys he´d been talking to were just leaving the infirmary.  
"With five hostages still in there? I don´t like this, Michael."  
"I don't either." came the grim reply. "But it may be the only thing left if the guy flips."  
Logan threw the Chief a devastating look, but remained silent.  
  
What was left to say anyway?  
  
Sinclair had taken the man who called himself Henry Grey to the garden, carefully avoiding the "panorama mile" with windows to outer space. All of a sudden, his guest began having trouble following the conversation. He showed signs of a strong headache and seemed increasingly confused about his surroundings. Sinclair decided to take him to MedLab. A young doctor had taken over while Franklin wasn´t there and Sinclair left the professor in his (competent – I don't think this is necessary) hands when C&C called about some unscheduled arrival.  
The doctor examining Prof. X/ Henry Grey couldn´t find anything, but he was asked by his patient how the hover-chair worked. He explained the functions, a little confused about the fact that no one had bothered telling the man. Then he went away to get a hypospray.  
According to Doris the new patient "drove" his hover-chair back and forth for a moment, then beckoned to another nurse to come over.  
She did and [in less than a second – not necessary] found herself in an extremely uncomfortable position with a scalpel pointed at her throat.  
  
"What was the topic of your conversation?" I asked the Commander.  
"Excuse me?"  
"Before he got the headache – what were you talking about?"  
"I don´t think we have time for..."  
"Please, Michael – it might be important. I guess..." Sinclair´s eyes narrowed when he tried to remember.  
"I guess the conversation started with my asking about his daughter, Jane."  
  
Logan and I exchanged a puzzled look.  
"How did you know he´s got a daughter named Jane?"  
  
Sinclair´s glance wandered from the mutant to me.  
"Don´t you know anything about Henry Grey?"  
  
"What´s there to know?" I asked. "I´ve never heard the name before."  
Logan only shrugged and Garibaldi raised his hands in defense.  
"Don´t look at me. If he´d told you he was Leonardo da Vinci or Massimo Alberini I'd know one thing or the other, but members of the British aristocracy of whatever century? Beats me."  
  
"Henry Grey was the father of Lady Jane Grey, the nine days´ queen." Seeing the still blank faces around him the Commander sighed. "Didn´t you have history classes at school? At age 15 she was married to Lord Guilford Dudley as part of a plot to control the English throne after the death of her cousin, the boy king Edward VI. Four days after Edward's death, Lady Jane's supporters proclaimed her to be Queen. It soon became clear, however, that Edward's half-sister Mary Tudor had far greater support, and after a "reign" of nine days Lady Jane Grey relinquished the crown. She and her husband were charged with high treason, and in 1554 they were beheaded."  
  
It took me a few moments to realize my mouth was hanging open and I closed it quickly.  
Garibaldi raised an eyebrow.  
"So did he know...?"  
"No. It seems that in Mr. Grey´s "reality" King Edward is still alive and well – just like his daughter."  
  
"You didn´t tell him...?"  
I stopped when I saw Sinclair´s frown.  
"Of course not! I can´t imagine anything we talked about was the reason for his...strange behaviour."  
  
Garibaldi turned to the door of the operation room.  
"Well, why don´t we find out what triggered him off?"   
  
"After what Doris said it´s probably a bad idea to just walk in." Franklin stated, nodding towards the operation room door.  
Garibaldi jumped a little when the doctor appeared so abruptly behind him.  
"So...how´s your nurse?"  
"Doris is doing well under the circumstances. I gave her something to sleep. What are you planning to do now?"  
  
Garibaldi cleared his throat.  
"The security cameras haven´t been installed yet, so we can´t see into the room. There´s a mentally unstable person with a scalpel, holding five people hostage and he told his "messenger" nobody was to come into the room or he´d hurt the nurse badly. I can think of only one thing to get the people out of the in one piece: nerve gas. We´ll conduct it through the ventilation shaft, wait five minutes, then go in and collect our sleeping beauties."  
  
The Commander walked a few steps to the right, deep in thoughts. When he looked up again, it was obvious he didn´t agree with the plan of his security chief.  
"The risk is too high. If he´s not the one sitting closest to the storage room someone else will react to the nerve gas first – giving him enough time to panic and kill his victim. There has to be another way, Michael!"  
  
Logan´s eyes were glued to the computer screen.  
"What we need..." he said slowly, "...is a distraction. One of the hostages should fake a heart attack or something. Anything that would take _his_ mind off things for a few seconds."  
  
Garibaldi laughed grimly.  
"How do you want us to tell the hostages? By shouting it through the air vent?"  
  
The mutant growled.  
"Somebody has to go through the shaft and make _discreet_ contact."  
  
"You heard the Commander – there is no way a man could fit into this shaft."  
"Then it seems we have to find someone smaller."  
  
Suddenly everyone was staring at me.  
  
That was the moment I realized that – no matter in which dimension I was staying – certain rules didn´t apply anymore: In my own world no one would even consider putting me in charge of anything, but in a fictitious universe people were not automatically excluding the idea.  
I felt like the boy in "Last Action Hero" after being made Jack Slater´s partner. He sure as hell knew this wasn´t the place he came from, because things like that just _didn´t happen in real life._  
They just didn´t.   
Period.  
  
The next sound was Garibaldi´s snort.  
"No way. I´m not sending a civilian into this...situation."  
"It´s far too dangerous." Franklin agreed.  
  
Well, maybe the difference wasn´t as big as I'd thought.  
  
Only Sinclair remained silent.  
  
The Chief grabbed his arm.   
"Oh, come on, Jeff, you´re not seriously considering this?! There´s too much, that could go wrong. What if she´s discovered?"  
"What do you say, Chris?" asked the Commander solemnly, "Would you take the risk?"  
I nodded.  
"Yes, I would. What´s the plan?"  
Sinclair cut off Garibaldi´s protest.  
"It _is_ a reasonable decision, Michael. Now listen: Chris will climb in here...and crawl all the way to the intersection. This turn will bring her to the storage room."  
His finger left a print on the map, where the shaft led to my destination. I rubbed my hands.  
"What am I supposed to do when I´m there?"  
"Nothing!"  
My face fell a little.  
"Um...okay, I can do that."  
"You lay down and wait. No rescue attempt or anything that would raise attention."  
"Right."  
"In the meantime I´ll talk to your friend. Maybe he´s just disoriented or confused."  
"Yeah..." Garibaldi growled, "...´cause confused people take hostages _all_ the time."  
He caught his friend´s glance.  
"Oh, come on, Jeff, you can´t be serious! Who knows what the guy in there is up to – we must get him out as quickly as possible!"  
"I will not risk the lives of the hostages!"  
"The only person in immediate danger is Louise and if we act swiftly-"  
"No, Michael. If there´s a chance to talk him out of this, I´ll take it."  
Garibaldi didn´t look pleased, but shrugged.  
"All right. So what happens then?"  
"It depends on the situation."  
The Commander glanced back at me.  
"You'll take a communicator with you, so we can keep in touch. Give us every detail of what´s going on in there and don´t try anything without my approval!"  
"O...Okay." 

-----ooooo-----

Logan checked the ventilation shaft in the small maintenance room while the Chief handed me a com device and explained how to use it.  
Things started getting exciting. Despite everything Sinclair had said I already pictured myself gliding through the shaft, breaking through the other end at full speed, elegantly disarming the criminal in the other room and saving the hostages.  
Mutant muscles flexed and with a loud crack the lid fell and a long, dark shaft came into view.  
It was...kinda narrow.  
_Extremely_ narrow.  
  
"I will never fit in there."  
  
Logan looked from me to the shaft and back.  
"Sure ya will. You just gotta squeeze a bit."  
  
He helped me up and with a last "remember what the Commander said!" from Garibaldi, I tried to turn into a snake and squeezed myself into the dark conduit. After a couple of metres, using hands and feet to get along, the twilight turned into complete darkness. First I thought the tube was becoming even tighter (or my ass fatter), but it was only Logan´s face blocking the last few beams of light.  
"You´re all right?"  
Automatically I tried to turn my head.  
Bad idea.  
"Ouch. Dammit. Yeah, I´m fine."  
  
"Good. We´ll go back to the infirmary."  
Light came and went. Garibaldi´s voice was next.  
"How long do you think it´ll take you?"  
  
I couldn´t even see my own hand right in front of my eyes, let alone the other end of the tunnel.  
"No clue. I´ll keep you informed via the communicator."  
  
"Be careful. Good luck."  
"Whatever..." 

-----ooooo-----

It felt like hours until I reached the intersection Sinclair had been talking about.  
All dreams about "gliding through and elegantly saving the hostages" had vanished while I was crawling along this dark, silent (and extremely dirty) path. Furthermore I was beginning to remember who the "hostage-taker" was we were fighting. Whatever caused Professor Xavier´s personality change, it didn´t make him the enemy – rather a victim, just as the people with him. Maybe we should let Talia scan him after all. Maybe this was some sort of mind illness the Psi Corps knew about and was able to cure. Although she saw the Psi Corps as "father" and "mother", as they´d intended, Talia Winters wasn´t one of the bad guys. It wouldn´t hurt to give her a chance...  
  
Finally there was light at the end of the tunnel – filtered through a fenced lid, like the one in the maintenance room. Very carefully I pushed myself nearer, trying to find out if there was anyone in the room.  
  
From what I could see it was a tiny storage room with many shelves, filled with glass containers, boxes and medical instruments. Apart from that it was empty.  
The doorway to my right was open, however, and quiet voices could be heard from the other room. One of the three beds and bits and pieces of medical equipment were visible, but no people.  
I crawled back a few metres and raised the communicator to my mouth. As quietly as possible I whispered  
"Okay, I´m in position. The storage room is empty, but I can hear them talking in the op."  
"Stay put." was Garibaldi´s reply, "The Commander is making contact."  
Crawling back to the end of the shaft I tried to listen to the conversation. It sounded like someone was ordering others around. The voices grew stronger when I reached the lid and pressed my ear against it.  
  
"You! Go over there. And don´t move or I will have to prove my point again!" That was the professor´s voice, although he sounded different somehow.  
  
A knocking sound, most certainly from the outside door.  
"What do you want?"  
"I´m here to talk." Sinclair´s voice, calm as ever.  
A harsh laugh.  
"I bet you are. And I warn you: I may not be able to walk around, but I still got this pretty lady here in my hands – so don´t try anything funny."  
  
"I won´t. I´ll come in now – alone and unarmed."  
  
A pause, then.  
"Okay. Do it. Just keep your hands where I can see them!"  
  
Hearing the familiar hissing sound, I pictured Sinclair slowly stepping through the door...another hiss left friends and staff behind. I could almost see the Commander, letting his eyes wander through the room, taking in the whole scenery, trying to calm doctors and nurses with a quick nod...but no, probably not – he wouldn´t risk that.  
Suddenly Sinclair was talking again.  
  
"What are you trying to prove, sir?"  
"I´m not trying to prove anything! I want you to answer a few questions!"  
"I promise to answer all questions you have. But please, let the people go. They were only trying to help you and-"  
"Help me?! I highly doubt that. Who are you anyway? And what kind of uniform is this?"  
Sinclair decided to ignore the second question.  
"My name is Jeffrey Sinclair, Mr. Grey, the commander of this...facility. Don´t you remember me?"  
  
Another pause, longer this time. Then  
"I have never seen you in my life. And who told you my name was "Grey"?"  
"You did, not too long ago...but if you´re not – who are you then?"  
"Don´t play games with me, Sinclair – you must know exactly who I am. I bet you´re responsible for _this_, too."  
A clang, like metal hitting metal. He´d probably knocked something onto the side rails of his hoverchair.  
Sinclair´s voice "moved" a little to the side.  
"If you´re talking about your legs, you already couldn´t use them when you arrived here. That´s why we provided you with a special chair-"  
"What is this place? A research laboratory of some kind? Is that the reason I´m here? Do you use prisoners as lab rats now?"  
  
_Prisoners?_  
  
I could imagine the surprised look on Sinclair´s face – it probably resembled the one on my own. What was the professor talking about now? Who was the new person inside his head? A murderer maybe?  
  
"We didn´t use you for anything. Please, sir, if you just told me your name..."  
Several seconds went by, without any more sound than distant voices from the other side of the shaft and my own heartbeat.  
  
"My name is Raif Bentley. And none of _them_ will leave this room alive if you don´t do exactly what I want you to!"

* * *

  
  
Part 6

  
  
This time the name rang a bell.  
Actually it rang about a dozen bells, which made it difficult to hear other, serious thoughts in my head.  
  
_Raif Bentley  
Raif Bentley_  
  
You know what it feels like to nearly remember something? Sure you do.  
I shifted in my hide-away and almost took an eye out trying to scratch my head in the narrow space, but it didn´t help.  
  
_Raif Bentley  
Raif Bentley_  
  
Apparently not British aristocracy (well, as far as I could tell – "The Sun" or its German counterpart "Bild" never made it to my breakfast table, so there was a huge gap in my knowledge of Royal families, affairs of married politicians and the favourite pastime of girls named "Denise", "Sharon" or "Susi" - who obviously didn´t make enough money with their photos to buy themselves more than a very short pair of jeans.) There was, however, a slight chance that Sinclair had heard the name of the new guy before – maybe this was another person of historic interest...  
  
"What´s going on in there?" Garibaldi´s voice was almost inaudible. I held the communicator to my mouth.  
"They´re still talking. The professor changed personalities again. He´s now-"  
"We know that – the Commanders own com device is on. We hear every word that´s being spoken in there. I want to know if you can see the hostages from where you are."  
Shifting again I could see about five more centimetres of the OP-bed, but still nothing else.  
"Nope. The doorway is too small."  
"This might be the best opportunity to leave the shaft. Can you hide in the storage room somewhere?"  
"Don´t worry, I´ll find a spot. Talk to you in a minute."  
  
They had begun talking again outside. Garibaldi was right – this was the best chance to get out. With difficulties I searched my pockets for the small item the Chief had given me while explaining the communicator. It was some sort of miniature welding torch. Since I didn´t have Logan´s strength (or the luxury of making as much noise as I wished) this little device helped me opening the lid on this side of the shaft swiftly and silently.  
After cutting through the lower part and along the sides I pushed against the metal. The upper part still in place it swung open like a cat door - not as smooth as that, but incredibly silently.  
  
I glanced over the edge.  
A huge grey box was standing about a metre or so under the opening. If I could use it as a platform on my way down I wouldn´t have to climb along the shelves to my right.  
Slowly I slid out of the shaft and reached for the box with both hands. Getting my backside to follow was more difficult, but after some pulling and wriggling I finally found myself on top of a grey hill, from where I had a good view on everything in the small storage room.  
The bottom shelves were rather packed with items, glass containers and instruments, but the top shelves didn´t seem to be used (it was probably too much trouble to get the B5 equivalent of a fork-lift everytime you needed anything from there. And since space didn´t seem to be a problem in MedLab they´d probably decided to leave them empty until more supplies were needed).  
Still, even if I managed to climb up and hide there I wouldn´t be able to see what was going on in the OP. There was no other place that could provide cover, apart from the ventilation shaft I'd come through – and it was almost impossible to take this way in a hurry.  
But first things first: I was here to keep my eyes open and report on the situation, so that was what I was going to do.  
Lying down next to the door I cursed the fact that I hadn´t brought a mirror. I mean after playing "Police Quest SWAT" several times you should know what to bring to this kind of "quest". Well, I had to work without.  
Still keeping my head down I peeked around the doorframe.  
  
"...won´t release any of my hostages until you tell me the truth."  
  
The professor was sitting with his back to me, facing Sinclair and the others. A scared looking nurse leaned against one side of the chair; an arm around her neck kept her in place. The other hand of the bald man was invisible, but most certainly held a scalpel close to her face. The rest of Franklin´s staff looked stressed and concerned, but all around well.  
With a stony expression Sinclair was standing in front of the whole group.  
"The _truth_ is that you are not helping your situation. If you let these people go I promise we´ll-"  
"You don´t seem to understand the gravity of the situation, _Commander_." the other man remarked, "Let me explain this once more: The people you see here – and especially beautiful Louise – grant that things are going to be done _my_ way. Believe me, sir, this kind of situation isn´t new to me. And my demands are few: I want a helicopter to pick me up in 30 minutes. Have the pilot bring a suitcase containing US $ 500.000 in $ 20 and $ 50 dollar bills – unmarked, of course. I will set Louise free as soon as I´ve reached the Mexican border."  
I watched Sinclair´s face, but his expression was unreadable. He must have seen me too, but didn´t show any sign of it. The medical staff exchanged insecure glances, but didn´t comment on their captor´s wishes.  
After a moment the Commander nodded slowly.  
"I will discuss your demands with my superiors."  
"By all means – talk to them." the other man sneered and continued in a threatening voice, "But remember: If you try anything funny, Louise will pay for it! I expect you back here in 15 minutes sharp." 

-----ooooo-----

I watched the Commander leaving, turned around and hurried back into the shaft. After a couple of metres I whispered into the com device.  
"Garibaldi? What´s happening?"  
"You heard everything?"  
"Yes. What are you going to do?"  
A pause, then Sinclair´s voice.  
"Do you know this new personality, this "Raif Bentley"?"  
"I´ve heard the name before, but I don´t remember where."  
"You´ve got to – we need every bit of information we can get on him – ASAP!"  
  
As if the pressure level wasn´t high enough already...  
"I´ll try my best."  
"Remember: He said he had experience with this kind of situation. Maybe you´ve seen him on the news."  
I doubted it. But then I _must_ have seen something about him on TV – no way I'd have forgotten actually meeting this guy!  
  
_Okay. Picture a hostage situation. A couple of people...and in between someone named Raif Bentley, most probably with a gun._  
  
Since I didn´t have any idea what he looked like this task seemed almost impossible. I mean, how many crimes do you see on TV every day?Apart from the usual murder on the news there are hundreds of fictional ones in the evening program as well. Murders, hostage situations, burglaries, trickery...you can pick your favourite crime when watching TV at night. How was I supposed to add face and background story to a name I´d probably only heard once, zapping through?  
"Chris? Can you tell us anything?"  
Garibaldi´s impatient voice.  
"No, I´m afraid not."  
"Keep on trying. He seems to think he´s in a lab on Earth. Does this ring a bell?"  
"No, but I if I'd never seen a space station before I'd think so, too."  
Logan´s growl made the communicator vibrate in my hand.  
"From what he said he´s surprised not to be in prison anymore. The question is did he go there for hostage-taking...or murder?"  
"Jeff..." it was difficult to understand Garibaldi, he was probably standing too far away from the communicator.  
"...do you think he would actually kill Louise?"  
"I´m not sure, Michael, but we better assume he would."  
Unfortunately I had to agree with him – I felt this personality would do anything to get out of here. He was as dangerous as a trapped wild cat.  
  
_Raif Bentley  
Raif Bentley_  
  
A rather unusual name.   
From his way of talking he was an intelligent man who knew exactly what he wanted. In fact he sounded like a person who usually got what they wanted. Unconsciously my mind "used" the professor´s appearance to picture Raif Bentley. He was extremely disappointed about something (well, aren´t hostage-takers always?!). But he had a plan. People tend to pay you attention (among other things) when you capture their loved ones and threaten to kill them. Especially...  
  
_Especially when they´re children._  
  
I inhaled sharply.  
_That´s it! Don´t lose your train of thoughts – it´s going in the right direction!_  
Children.  
Not only a few.  
A whole school full of them.  
A private school.  
And Bentley was...Chief of Security...  
  
Um...since when do schools have security personnel?  
  
Oh wait – an _American_ private school – yes, this was making more sense.   
All of a sudden other pieces of the puzzle fell into place.  
Kids of rich and powerful people. Bentley tried to blackmail their parents, but something (no, _someone_) destroyed his plan. A troublemaker, a drop-out...  
Grabbing the communicator firmer I robbed back to the maintenance room.  
  
"Commander, you won´t believe this..." 

-----ooooo-----

"He thinks he´s an actor?"  
"No, he thinks he´s a criminal. But a criminal I´ve seen on TV, being played by an actor."  
"So the guy doesn´t exist?"  
"Well no, it was a fictional character."  
The men around the table exchanged glances, then Logan turned towards me.  
"So what if he thinks he´s Cinderella? This doesn´t help us much."  
"Well, I´m _sorry_ he´s not a member of the Manson family!"  
"Hey! Stop that." Garibaldi said sharply and Sinclair added,  
"We´ve got 10 more minutes left. I need to know everything there is about this man!" 

-----ooooo-----

I gave them a brief synopsis of the movie "Masterminds". Unfortunately I'd only seen it twice in my life and the second time had been almost 2 years ago. I mean you remember the fun stuff (the fire extinguisher scene for example) and some of the action highlights, but the story itself (and therefore the motivations of the main character) was somewhat shady. Did this Bentley guy want anything else apart from money?  
  
I didn´t know. Things were a lot easier if you could just sit down at you desk and surf the net for information. One click and I'd be at the Internet Movie Database Homepage, another one and I'd have everything I needed to know about this film on screen, ready to print out if necessary.  
  
"What was his name?"  
I snapped out of my thoughts.  
"What?"  
"The name of the kid who rescued the others."  
"Um...it was something short, only one sylable. But..."  
I shrugged helplessly.  
"It´s been a while. I know the name of the actor, but that won´t help you."  
Sinclair nodded, looking disappointed.  
"We´ve got three more minutes. Chris, I want you to go back to your post. Keep us informed about the situation, but stay out of danger."  
"Can I have a mirror or something to watch the room without being seen?"  
Garibaldi waved one of his men over to the table, removed a small pocket from the guy´s uniform belt and threw it over to me.  
"You´ll see how it works when you open it. Try not to get caught."  
"Will do."  
I walked to the door, but turned around before leaving the room.  
"What are _you_ going to do?"  
"Try to buy us some time."  
While security personnel took their places on both sides of the door, Sinclair closed his combat suit, prepared to enter the OP again.  
  
Quickly I turned and raced out the door, back to the maintenance room. Only few inhabitants strolled along the corridors of Blue 5 and and humans as well as aliens regarded me with puzzlement when I ran past them. At the next corner I glanced back and saw a person in a dark suit disappearing into a room. Doubting that I'd seen correctly I continued my wild run to the maintenance room. Once there I nodded towards the man Garibaldi had left as guard, climbed into the shaft and wriggled my body mass through to the other side.  
Reaching the intersection I heard voices and began crawling slower, to make less noise. There was no sound when I reached the fenced lid and I wondered what I'd missed. Had the Commander left already?  
When I glanced through the bars of the closed grill there was a sudden shout, no, more a bark than a shout.  
  
"NOW!"  
  
The lid opened and grabbing hands missed me by only a few inches. I shot backwards – with "shot" being the speed of my imagination rather than the actual startled jump that had my head crashing into the ceiling and hands and feet scrambling to bring more space between me and the attacker.  
The hands kept searching for a few more seconds, then a voice with a British accent spoke from farther away.  
"Stop that. Go back to the others."  
Both hands disappeared and the lid fell back with a metallic clang.  
Still trying to keep my heart from jumping out of my body I listened to the voice that grew louder.  
  
"If you are a member of the local police squad I strongly suggest you remove your weapons – all of them – and drop them through the lid."  
The light falling through the bars drew a pattern of lines on the right wall of the shaft. Somehow it felt as if these walls were shifting closer together.  
"I don´t have any weapons."  
A snort.  
"Very funny. Well, you might think I´m bluffing, but you´re wrong. Get out of there this instant or Louise will lose a finger!"  
Still, his voice was calm and polite, as if he´d just invited me for tea. You could almost miss the sharp undertone it carried. Since my communicator stayed silent I had to make this choice myself.   
Not much of a choice, really.  
  
Carefully I pushed myself forward, slid through the cat door and onto the box. Prof. Xavier´s chair was floating in the doorframe, so he could keep an eye on both the front door and the storage room. Louise winced when he held her firmer around the neck. Now that I got a closer look I could see she was a beautiful young woman with brown hair and the usual bright blue nurse uniform.  
Seeing her bending backwards around the chair made me think of how sore her back would feel the next day.  
_If she´s still alive tomorrow._  
Climbing down from the box I found the professor staring at me in disbelief.  
"Has it become a fashion of today´s youth to roam air vents?" He motioned me aside and threw another glance at the vent.  
"Will there be any more...visitors "dropping by"?"  
  
I shook my head.  
"Seems they couldn´t find anyone who fits in there."  
  
"You are not by any chance a relative of Oz Paxton, are you?"  
Oz Paxton. There was the name I'd been searching for.  
I tried to find a witty reply, but the sight of the frightened nurse killed my creativity in an instant.  
"No."  
  
"A friend?"  
"No."  
  
Xavier´s eyes narrowed.  
"But you _do_ know the name." It wasn´t a question. I sighed.  
"As a matter of fact, I do. And as far as I remember the situation you ´d created at this school, your plan didn´t include harming anyone, let alone murdering people in your control."  
He looked at me for a long time.  
"You seem to know a lot about me. Who are you if you don´t mind my asking?"  
"Call me Chris." I replied carefully. Every word I'd say from now on would have to be well chosen. This personality was very intelligent, but also standing with his back against the wall (well, not literally, of course.). He might do things he wouldn´t do, had he the time to think them over.  
"Actually it´s a coincidence I know about your case."  
  
And already I cursed myself for this line. What was I supposed to say now?  
_One night I went to the video shop with a friend and we chose _"Masterminds"_ for our entertainment (together with _"Freddy´s New Nightmare"_ and _"Rush Hour"  
Certainly not. Should I tell him I was a friend´s friend of Oz? (Since I'd already said I wasn´t a direct friend of the guy - bravo, Chris). But it was too far fetched anyway – what would I be doing here, then? (Besides: The fact that Bentley had executed his scheme without killing a single person in the process, not even the security guy at the gate, was my own perception. It was unlikely that the "hero" of the movie would walk around telling people that Bentley´s men had been ordered not to kill the cops storming at them).  
  
So I had to be someone else. A member of the SWAT team, maybe? Even harder to believe, since I didn´t have a weapon on me – and who´s ever heard of a cop going into a situation like this unarmed?  
(I have to admit that even with the months of Assassin´s training I hadn´t considered taking a weapon with me. For once I hadn´t expected to be caught – and the other reason is that I had no intention to kill the professor, whatever action the personality in his head was going to take. Why carry a tool you knew you weren´t going to use – and take the chance that it might fall in the hands of someone whom you didn´t want it to have?)  
  
Journalism seemed like the last straw.  
"I work for..."  
_the "MAD magazine", doing a report on psychopaths for the November issue...  
"Sniper´s Weekly", collecting information about unsuccessful hostage-takers...  
the local school magazine finishing an article about school security and why it´s putting students in mortal danger...  
  
And what the hell would a journalist do in an air vent anyway?_  
  
"Well?"  
  
Only one simple question and it told me that it was too late. He wouldn´t believe a single word I'd say. And he´d be right – I was too young to be a SWAT member, too mute to be a negotiator and too damn stupid to be a reporter!  
  
Louise winced once more.  
  
"I´m not a violent man." Bentley said slowly and moved the scalpel closer to her face.   
"But if it means I´ll survive this..."  
As if he´d spilled paint from a brush a small patch of blood appeared on the woman´s cheek. Louise gave a startled little cry and slumped down in her captor´s arm. Holding up her unconscious body with amazing strength Bentley turned back to me.  
  
"When I use this instrument again, she will die."

* * *

Part 7

  
  
Have you ever sat in front of the TV, watching the Hollywood version of a hostage situation, wondering how stupid people reacted and telling yourself if you were there you'd certainly do better. I know I have, but probably won't do it again. Because it's the kind of situation where you feel completely helpless, even if you are not the direct target of the person with the weapon. You think of something to say or do, carefully considering the outcome. Would the criminal even care for what you were going to say? Would he listen to you, would he believe your words? If not, wouldn´t the whole situation become more dangerous for the other hostages and yourself?  
It took me only a few seconds to decide. I wasn´t as good a liar as the situation demanded, so I would go with as much truth as I dared.  
"I was sent to keep an eye on the situation. To inform people outside about what was going on here. I'm neither a soldier, nor a member of the security personnel." My voice was trembling only little, I hoped he wouldn´t take it for a sign of me lying to him.  
Bentley nodded. He touched a pad at the right arm rail of the hover chair to make it move back into the OP-room then motioned me inside as well. The nurse was still pressed to the blank metal of his hover chair like an oversized doll.  
  
Hesitantly I stepped outside. The other hostages looked up, one doctor I´d seen a couple of times before smiled wearily.  
  
"What´s that?" Bentley demanded and pointed to the little instrument at my belt. Slowly I reached down and took it out.  
"A welding torch. I used it to cut through the metal of the lid."  
He waved his hand, a silent order to give it to him, and reluctantly I handed it over. He already had a scalpel. What could this instrument do that he couldn´t use the other for?  
  
He turned the small instrument in his hand, holding the unconscious nurse with the other. She was still bleeding, but only little. The cut in her cheek wasn´t as deep as it had seemed. It looked like it was already closing.  
There was a quiet humming sound when the torch ignited. A stiff blue flame formed at the top and turned into a beam of light when Bentley swung his hand a little to the left.  
  
My eyes followed it until I shook myself mentally and deliberately glanced sideways. Bentley was in power and he knew it. The least I could do after letting myself being captured was to check on my surroundings. Maybe there was something, _anything_ I could use to my advantage...  
  
But the room offered nothing – it was a common op with three stretchers and some mobile tables with medical equipment on them, measuring instruments and the like. No more scalpels or any other kind of tool that could be used as a weapon. The only hypospray lay on the far side, empty.  
I turned my head a little more to glance at the hostages. Two men were leaning with their backs against the first stretcher, a woman standing behind it kept her eyes on Louise and the other searched my gaze, probably for a sign of reassurance, that this was part of a plan to get the situation under control. Since I couldn´t offer one, I turned back again and continued watching Bentley, who was still examining the torch.  
If he´d switched it off things might have turned out differently. But he was too absorbed in his examination to realize that his hostage's foot had started to twitch.  
  
Seconds later all hell broke loose. 

-----ooooo-----

Louise came to.  
  
She blinked and the first thing she saw was the blue flame of a welding torch blazing in the air above her. I guess that was too much. The sudden scream made everybody in the room jump, especially Bentley, who was closest to her. It rattled in my ears, went on and on and on – longer than I would have thought possible.  
"QUIET!" Bentley roared, but it would have been more convincing if he hadn't clung to her twisting body, trying to force her down again to secure his position. The hover chair rocked, flinging the scalpel to the floor, not far from me.  
Suddenly there was a slashing noise as six metal claws went through the door, pushing it open. Logan didn't pay the least attention to the men shouting behind him, but jumped into the room like a cat and ran towards Bentley and his hostage.  
  
There was a moment when I was sure Bentley would kill Louise. The torch moved downwards, just as Logan reached the row of stretchers, but slowed when Bentley's eyes suddenly grew round. The reason was obvious, even without the threatening bark that was followed by even more shouting from outside. In the few moments it took Bentley to realize there was a man with steel claws running towards him, accompanied by a snarling blue dog monster that was just wriggling through the remains of the door, Logan had reached the hover chair, grabbed the screaming nurse and tossed her in my direction. It was all I could manage to catch her before she could crash into the next op bed. She was still fighting, not aware of what was going on so I caught her arms, embraced her tightly around the belly and leaned backwards. My spine made sudden, painful contact with the stretcher behind me, then I was sitting - no, rather 'half-lying' - on the floor, trying to keep my legs from bending i nto a prezel under Louise's back.  
  
>From my position I could still see Logan and Xa...Bentley fighting for the torch. Logan had seized Bentley´s right wrist and forced it upwards, but a sudden blow with the left fist distracted him just long enough for his possessed friend to jerk the hand with the torch free.  
I struggled to get Louise´s weight from my legs, but the woman was still in panic. Her elbow hit me twice at the skull – my left hand stopped searching for the scalpel Bentley had lost.  
  
There was a wild roar, but it came neither from Logan, nor Bronx. The welding torch slid through the air, leaving a white bow, before Bentley rammed it deeply into Logan´s chest and pulled the handle down.  
My hand found the scalpel and a second later it stuck in Bentley´s right hand, up to the shaft. It was too late, of course. Logan was staggering backwards when Bentley´s roar turned into a painful whelp. At this very moment Bronx approached the hover chair at high speed, a snarling force of nature.  
"Bronx! NO!"  
Already in mid-air the gargoyle heard me and actually obeyed.  
Or rather "tried to".  
His mind was willing, but the pure mass of his body pushed him forward. He didn´t collide with the person in the chair as intended, but ran fully into the hovering device and pushed it over.  
  
Then the ground shook again.  
  
The armed guards who filed in through the slit of the damaged door stumbled, but somehow managed to form a circle around everybody in the room, weapons aimed at the unconscious man in the centre.  
Two of the hostages, a doctor and a nurse, came over to me and kneeled beside Louise, who finally broke into tears. I was grateful they took care of her. As soon as the worst tremors were over I stood and swayed towards the two crowds that were gathering around both X-Men. It wasn´t difficult to tell them apart: On one side, swarming around like bees were the medical staff, lifting Logan up on the op bed and shouting orders for medical equipment. On the other side everyone in security grey had assembled, pushing the hover chair away and checking on the motionless body on the floor.  
I shoved my way through the men and kneeled down next to the professor.  
"Careful, kid." one of the guys said.  
I ignored him and several weapons aimed at me, and rolled the unconscious man on his back. Apart from the scalpel sticking out his right hand, he didn´t look injured.  
Before I could ask for assistance Dr. Franklin had appeared next to me and began ordering the security staff around.  
"Help me putting him up here. You: I need this table over there. And Chris: Would you get me the med kit from my desk?" 

-----ooooo-----

I fetched what he wanted, then carefully retreated and tried to fade into the background as security personnel left and the med staff got back to their routine. Bronx sat beside me and scratched himself. There were a whole lot of people working at the op-beds, most of them on Logan´s side. Blue uniforms seemed to be everywhere. In the middle of the bee swarm an engineer appeared and entered the storage room, apparently to fix the broken lid. A beeping sound from Logan´s stretcher made me look back again. No one was going to get me out of here before I knew the guys were going to be okay!  
  
"Chris. I need a word."  
  
_Damn._  
With a final glance to the two stretchers I hesitantly walked to the door and passed Commander Sinclair.  
  
_Here comes the lecture. _I thought angrily, when he ushered me into a quiet corner.  
"I know it was my fault he captured me, Commander, but there wasn´t anything else I could do just then. He said he´d hurt her, so-"  
Sinclair made a calming gesture.  
"Slowly. And from the beginning. Are you alright?"  
I blinked, then made a mental check.  
"Uh...yes, I am."  
"Good. We heard everything, but decided against interfering through the communicator. I felt he would have reacted badly to hearing someone else´s voice at that particular moment."  
Remembering the situation I nodded, then asked the question that had been bothering me ever since.  
"Where have you been anyway? I thought the plan was to talk to him a little more. It didn´t take me that long to get through the shaft, I was convinced you´d still be in there, discussing the money, or his escape route or whatever."  
He smiled dryly.  
"I would have preferred that. Instead he ordered me to leave. I believe it had something to do with his headache - maybe he didn´t want me to see that it had worsened. Only a minute or two after I'd come in he threw me out again."  
"That didn´t leave him much time to find out about the ventilation shaft. Maybe…" I thought for a moment, "…maybe he remembered Oz coming through the shafts and checked on his surroundings. Maybe it was just the wrong time for me to crawl in. Well, whatever…"  
  
I told him everything that had happened from the moment of my discovery. The part with the scalpel was especially embarrassing, but he didn´t comment on it.  
"That was a close call." Was all he said, when I´d finished. He looked around and found Dr. Franklin just entering the operation room through the still sliced door. One side had been removed to allow the medical staff to continue working in there. The engineer who´d been in the storage room left, not without looking nervously over his shoulder. A second later Bronx hopped through the doorframe and joined us in the corner. He brushed his muzzle against my hand until I absently scratched his head. When I looked up again Sinclair´s face was even more solemn than before.  
"I want you to get some rest. Your friends are in good hands and from what Dr. Franklin said they´re out of immediate danger." He paused.  
"Considering what happened to Logan this is almost a miracle."  
"He´s been through worse I´m afraid. Did the doc say when he´s expecting them to wake up?"  
"No, but he´ll inform both of us when they do. Will you be able to take them home then?"  
My shoulders slumped.  
"I´m still working on that. For some reason the portal doesn´t build up properly; there´s no indication to why this happens." Someone in security grey stopped beside me.  
"Maybe the batteries are running low."  
"Huh? Excuse me?"  
Garibaldi handed Sinclair a notepad. From the grim look on both of their faces it was either the damage report or their recent IRS audit. While the Commander studied it, his friend turned to me.  
"Energy, kid. You entered this place with two people and a gargoyle in tow. Seems like a whole lot of body mass to transport through time and space."  
I shook my head in disbelief.  
"It can´t be working like that. I mean…" Although magic, wasn´t totally out of the question, my mind refused to use that word here. Somehow it didn´t belong in this dimension.  
"What sort of energy would a blue tunnel of light want anyway? And where would I put it?"  
He shrugged.  
"That was a conclusion based on very few facts. The rest is up to you."  
With a nod Sinclair gave the notepad back. Garibaldi flashed me a grin, turned and walked away.  
  
"I have to get back to C&C. Will you be okay?"  
"Sure." I murmured absently, while my eyes wandered back to the stretchers in the next room. Sinclair turned around to leave. "Commander?"  
He looked at me with a raised eyebrow.  
"Will you get into trouble for this?"  
A grin.  
"Not more than usual. But next time you bring friends around inform me in advance, okay?" He winked.  
  
"Then I´ll put Susan in charge and take the week off." 

-----ooooo-----

Not long after he´d gone Dr. Franklin walked out of the op.  
Without much surprise he noted that I´d chosen a place where I could see through the bent metal, right towards the scenery around the two stretchers.  
"Didn´t the Commander tell you to get some rest?" he asked, not unfriendly.  
I shrugged.  
"I can rest here. Any news?"  
He shook his head.  
"We´ll have to wait. But..." he raised a hand when I leaned back against the doorframe, "..._you_ will be leaving now. Go and try to get a little sleep. Or do you want me to give you something?"  
I took a step backwards.  
"No, that´s okay. I just want to be around, in case anything happens."  
"We have the situation under control." The doctor smiled, "Nothing´s going to happen within the next few hours. I´ll inform you about any changes. Now get out of here, will you?"  
"Mhm. Okay."  
I turned around and walked to the door. Passing the table where Logan and Sinclair had worked on the blueprint of the shaft, I reached out and casually dropped the object lying there into my pocket. If there wasn´t another way I´d have to make one myself...  
  
Franklin cleared his throat when I was just stepping out the door.  
  
"There is something you might want to know. The guy you saw leaving a few minutes ago reinstalled the vent door to the storage room. But just in case someone tries to use a certain instrument to open it again I also locked the inner door. It would take a possible intruder without heavy machinery at least two hours to cut through _this_ one."  
  
He smiled and went back to his work, whistling innocently. 

-----ooooo-----

I marched down the corridor, fuming.  
_Nothing_ was going as planned, nothing. This leap was one big catastrophe.  
Several aliens and a few security and maintenance people still working in the area stared at me as I stormed by. Silently I got on into the next transport shuttle and watched Bronx following me inside, forcing a couple of people to withdraw with frightened faces. A few minutes later the shuttle spat us out near the intersection to DownBelow. I brushed past a crowd of human monks in long brown cloaks and turned into the next corridor, entering Brown Section.  
  
Bronx was at my heels, whining as if to ask why I was so angry.  
The light was dimmer here. That´s nothing unusual when you´re reaching the lower levels. DownBelow is not exactly a high priority area when it comes to exchanging broken light bulbs.  
A few hundred metres ahead it became quieter as well.  
  
I didn´t slow down, but my eyes swept the surroundings carefully.  
Usually the area near the docks is not busy, but there´s always a ship being unloaded and the cargo transported through these tunnels. Only Bronx´ claws made scratching noises on the metal floor.  
  
I continued my way to the "Dancing Lobster". Every now and then the gargoyle sniffed around, but always followed me after a moment. Suddenly he took over and raced into the next corridor to the right.  
"Hey! Bronx! That's not the way to the bar."  
There was an impatient bark fading away in the labyrinth of the area. I ignored it and went on. So Bronx had abandoned me as well.  
Fine. Whatever. I was certainly not going to run after this stubborn dog.  
He would return eventually, he always did.  
  
Was it just my imagination or did the main corridor become even darker than before?  
Still, everything stayed quiet.  
Unusually quiet.  
Even Bronx´ scratching noise had offered some sort of reassurance.  
  
Suddenly a change in the recycled air indicated someone else was in the corridor. I could _feel_ the person in the shadows before me. If there had been other people around this would have been impossible, but your senses sharpen when they don´t have much to concentrate on.  
I stopped and calculated how long it would take me to race back to a public area. Turning my head slightly I didn't see or hear anyone behind me. There was a good chance to reach a safe area, but in my current state I preferred to wait. Perhaps it was a robber who needed a good hard kick in the butt. I was just in the right mood to give him that.  
  
The shadow stepped forward into the little light and became a human in a black suit.  
A smile went over his all-too-familiar face.  
"Good evening, Miss. Please don´t be afraid. I'm only here to talk."  
I believed that much. This was a guy who wouldn't try to harm me, at least not until I presented either a thread or offered an unexpected opportunity.  
Right now, however, I was not in a diplomatic mood.  
"What do you want?"  
  
His smile broadened.  
"Actually that was exactly what I intended to ask you. What do you want?"  
I brushed past him.  
"I don't have time for this!"  
He fell into pace beside me.  
"This is a serious question. Please consider it, if only for a moment."  
Against my will my mind did.  
_A nice long beach, somewhere where the water is warm and the sun shines on a perfect blue sky, at least two weeks of complete and total loneliness with the biggest problem being the decision of what to eat for dinner, grilled or fried fish..._  
  
"Judging from your face you found the answer to my question."  
I stopped again and spun around.  
"Listen to me very closely: I can't stop you from doing what you are going to do. It might even be a necessary job to set certain events in motion. But don't you dare..." my eyes narrowed as I stared into his dark pupils, "...don't you dare talking to me again! ´cause if you'll do I'll kick your sorry butt out of the nearest airlock."  
  
He raised his brows and opened his mouth, but I was quicker.  
"And don't give me that innocent puppy-look. Sure, you're only here to help. Stuff that, okay? I mean, do people seriously fall for that?!"  
  
I turned and walked down the corridor, shaking my head in disbelief. At the next corner I looked back to the 'man in black'. "Besides, I _hate_ fish."  
  
If he felt any emotion, be it confusion, anger or amusement it could not be read in this mask of a face. He only bowed slightly and continued smiling.  
I took satisfaction from the thought that I'd already seen his head on a stick and walked on.  
  
At the next intersection Bronx joined me again. He had the satisfied look of a gargoyle dog after a good hunt. I wondered if his prey had been invisible to the human eye, a black, spider-like shadow with long legs...on the other hand he might have just followed the old trail of a food container that had been carried through the labyrinth earlier. I gave him a rough push he probably didn't even feel.  
  
"You're a _real_ help, buddy..."  
  
He missed the sarcasm and jumped forward, barking happily.

* * *

Part 8

  
  
The last few hundred metres to the "Dancing Lobster" were crowded with people.  
People who kept staring at me until I turned my head to see if some weird creature was on my heels, but there was nothing apart from Bronx, and his appearance neither surprised nor frightened the lurkers anymore.  
  
Kari threw three of her tentacles in the air when I stormed into the bar.  
"Chris. What happened to you? Were you in a fight?"  
"Huh? No...not exactly. Kari, I need-"  
With a sudden move of her tentacles she shoved me away from the glaring customers, through the side entrance and closed the door behind us.  
"A shower!" she stated firmly.  
I glared at her.  
"What? No. Actually I need-"  
The mirror next to the shelf was dirty and reflected nothing more than a shadow. Then the lights went on and I saw that the mirror wasn´t dirty at all.  
The girl who stared back at me wore dust like a patina all over her body. There were dark smears in her face where she´d touched it with her hands; knees and elbows were black.  
  
"- a shower indeed." 

-----ooooo-----

Half an hour later I looked like a human being again.  
  
With two boxes full of bottles I swayed through the corridor and reached the quarters in Green section. Fumbling the code card into the slot took a while with both hands full, but finally the door opened. I scanned the room before stepping in, but everything looked normal – or rather like we had left it earlier. Bronx trotted past me into a corner, dropped and closed his eyes with a comfortable sigh.  
  
I set the boxes down next to the couch and rummaged through their content. There were mostly colorless liquids, a few blue and green alien drinks and one bottle of an indefinable substance that was usually ordered by Narn – and humans with a suicidal nature.  
  
The logical approach was to try first what had worked a couple of times already. I opened the water bottle and filled a glass. Then I put the glass on the floor, right in the middle of the room, and concentrated.  
  
Even quicker than before the blue circle opened where I expected it and I could feel hair and face being touched by a soft breeze. My heart pounded when I stretched my hand out and touched the portal. The sucking sensation was stronger than before, but still the hand went right through. I could see my fingers in a blur on the other side.  
  
Two blue, a green and some colorless liquids had the same effect.  
  
I was running out of glasses, so I picked the last one up, filled it with some syrup-like green stuff, mixed it with something that smelled like whiskey – and tossed the whole, ugly content into the blue circle.  
  
For seconds the portal sucked a little harder – I had always felt that "extra pull" myself when leaping through. I leaned to the side and inspected the wall behind the circle. Heavy drops of a greenish substance were running away from a dark stain, shaped like a three-legged elephant. But the elephant wasn´t as big as it should have been. I got back to my feet to take a closer look. Bronx lifted his head from his paws and watched me lazily.  
It appeared that some of the liquid had made it through the portal, while the rest smashed to the wall. Hence the "extra pull".  
This probably meant that whoever walked into the blue circle left part of his body behind.  
Great.  
Just what I needed.  
  
Out of frustration I allowed myself the fantasy of using Bester as a guinea-pig. The splash when his internal organs hit the floor, staying behind when he leaped...  
  
With a grim smile I went back to work. Glasses were filled and refilled, liquids mixed and tossed against the wall. The elephant became a giant mammoth. There was no method to my madness and no visible change in the swirling blue. In the corner Bronx rested his head on his paws again and began snoring peacefully.  
  
At some point I stopped and looked around me. Full and empty glasses were standing everywhere, bottles had fallen to the side in between, some of them dripping leftover liquid on the floor. The sudden loss of concentration made the portal vanish with a hiss.  
  
Only when the door buzzed again did I realize that this was the noise that had made me pause.  
Carefully, trying not to trip over the glass containers, I got up and walked to the door.  
"Who's there?"  
"Open UP!"  
It was Logan´s voice, but the panic it held gave me goosebumps. Quickly I pushed the button. Even before the door had opened completely Wolverine had ducked into the room and grabbed me by the collar of my shirt. He stomped through the mess on the floor, dragging me with him and pushed me against the wall. My ribs cracked and the liquid behind me instantly seeped through my clothes.  
"When do we LEAVE?!"  
With the last word the claws of his left hand shot out and dug deeply into the metal right next to my right ear. I gulped, my skin crawling at the madness in his eyes.  
  
"I´m...I´m working on it."  
  
Before he could respond in whatever way there came an angry grunt from the left corner and a heavy weight shoved his body away from me, into the shadows of another corner. Metal shrieked, sparkles flew, there was grunting and growling while I steadied myself.  
All of a sudden everything was quiet.  
  
"Lights." I hissed and whiteness flooded the quarters. In the corner a pair of biker boots stuck out under a growling gargoyle. I stumbled over and threw a glance over Bronx´ back. Where Logan´s nose ended, the gargoyle´s muzzle began. There is something intimidating about a set of huge shiny teeth attached to an angry dog that´s as big as a calf and has the body mass of a small bulldozer.  
  
The man looked up at me, all madness gone.  
"Make him get up."  
  
A pause.  
  
"Please."  
  
Silently I patted the gargoyle´s back. Another grunt, then he got to his feet and retreated, not without stepping on Logan´s hand once more.  
Logan winced and slowly sat up, staring at his hand. Pain showed in his eyes when he retracted the metal claws.  
"Thanks. I don´t know what´s gotten into me."  
  
I picked up the bottles and threw them back into the boxes without letting the mutant out of my sight.  
"Neither do I. But it scares the hell out of me. First the professor and now-"  
A horrible thought struck me.  
"Professor Xavier is alright, isn´t he?"  
  
"Yeah...yeah, of course. He hasn´t woken up yet, but the doc says he´ll be fine."  
  
The BabCom screen lit up, showing the familiar "Incoming transmission"-sign. I walked past Bronx, who sniffed at a green puddle on the floor, and pushed a button. Dr. Franklin´s face appeared.  
"Chris, thank goodness. I want you to lock the door right away! Don´t let anybody-"  
  
He stopped and I turned my head slightly to see that Logan had gotten up and now leaned against the couch, clearly visible for the camera of the communication system. He used one claw to scratch the stubbles of his beard and listened with interest. "Don´t worry." I told Dr. Franklin, while Bronx came around and rubbed his head against my leg, "Weve got the situation under control."  
  
The doctor looked from me to the mutant, then to the calm gargoyle.  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"I´m sure. How´s the professor?"  
"He´s still sleeping. But it won´t be long until he wakes up."  
He paused.  
"There should be someone with him when he does. Someone he knows."  
  
I glanced at Logan, who grumbled something under his breath. Ignoring the insolent grunt I turned back to the doctor.  
"Give us a minute to talk, please. One of us will come to sickbay afterwards and stay with Professor Xavier."  
He hesitated, then nodded solemnly.  
  
"I hope you know what you´re doing." 

-----ooooo-----

"What made you so angry in the first place? I thought you´d rip my head off."  
Logan fished a bottle out of the box, sniffed at it, then drained the remains of its content in one gulp. Judging from his face the whiskey on this station equalled the poor quality of the water.  
"It wasn´t you...it was..."  
"What?"  
He turned the bottle in his hand before looking at me.  
"I don´t know. Just a feeling."  
"What kind of feeling?"  
"There was something out there...some kind of a hunter. It was after me."  
My eyes narrowed. The only thing I could imagine being a thread to this mutant was a Shadow.  
"What did you see?"  
"Nothing. I...I didn´t even _smell_ anything."  
"Then how did you...?"  
"I´m not imagining things! There was something there! I could feel it, as clearly as I see you sitting there! And the damn thing was strong."  
"I´m not saying you´re paranoid, I´m just trying to find out what happened. I ran into this guy earlier and his...associates are a bunch you better avoid. Maybe I pissed him off enough to send them after you."  
"Who are they?"  
  
How do you explain what a Shadow is? To someone who knows nothing about this dimension? Five words or less. I took the bottle from his hand and threw it back into the box.  
  
"Let´s just say they´re a certain...interest group on this station not many people know about yet. This guy I mentioned, Morden, is their representative. You´d probably recognize him right away. Dark hair, pleasant smile and you have to keep yourself from punching him from the moment he begins talking to you."  
  
"What do they want?"  
  
I smiled about his choice of words.  
"That´s a good question. If we had the time I could tell you the whole story, but since we do not...they´re the bad guys – the extremely bad guys! I have no idea what they want from you – well, if it _was_ one of them hunting you – but I´d rather not find out."  
I paused.  
"What do we do about the professor?"  
  
With a grim face Logan turned and walked to the door.  
"I´ll stay with him. But..." he looked back and his claws shot out, "...if I see some strange creature creeping up his bed I won´t ask if it belongs to the medical personnel!"  
  
I followed him into the corridor.  
"Fine. I´ll go to the bar to get some more bottles. Maybe it´s just my imagination, but it seems the portal is growing stronger. Should be possible to find out the reason."  
  
We passed a group of business people who were discussing which restaurant they could go to and, further down the corridor, two Minbari, absorbed in a much more quiet dialogue.  
  
At the intersection leading to the core shuttle I stopped.  
"Your shuttle goes in the other direction, the entrance is over there."  
  
The mutant walked past me and ignored the pointing finger.  
"First I´ll see to it that you get down and back safely."  
Okay, now this was getting ridiculous.  
"I don´t need a babysitter."  
Wolverine whirled around. A human family of three, who stood right next to the door to the core shuttle, stepped back nervously.  
"If this _thing_ is still here somewhere I won´t have you walking around on your own. And don´t see it as babysitting. I´m merely trying to protect the only link home I´ve got."  
Putting it this way made the whole thing less ridiculous, but it didn´t make it any more pleasant. And since Bronx had disappeared again, I couldn´t even point out that there was already someone keeping me from getting in trouble.  
  
"So now I´m a 'link'? Very charming..."  
  
The metal door opened, two passengers walked out and the family hurried into the shuttle. I followed them and heard Logan coming after me. Sullen I hung my arms into one of the soft safety bars. Logan stopped next to me, grabbed another one and stared at the family which stared back like rabbits in a car´s headlight. The mother actually pressed her son tighter to herself.  
  
With a soft woosh the shuttle left Green section towards the lower parts of the station. When it finally stopped at DownBelow the sudden pull threw the woman to the side. Logan´s fist shot out as quickly as his claws. The metal drilled into the wall opposite me and his arm caught her just in time. Her weight pressed him backwards, but the claws held him in place. "Th...thank you." She stammered, watching in horror as he pulled his claws out of the wall.  
"Don´t mention it." Logan growled, retracted the metal and stepped aside to let her pass. We watched all three of them flee and followed down the corridor of Brown 2.  
  
All I could hear was the sound of our footsteps.  
"What exactly are you going to do?" he asked.  
"My 'experiments' were a little... unorganized. I have to change that. Make a research plan or something. But first I need more supplies."  
  
He stopped.  
"Did you hear that?"  
  
Was his nervousness catching up on me? The station´s noise can´t be unnerving when you first come here. I remember lying awake at night until I´d gotten used to the constant scratching and humming of the metal around me.  
"I...don´t know. What did it sound like?"  
"Like..."  
His claws shot out again when a shadow appeared at the end of the corridor.  
But it was only a young Centauri turning around the corner. The kid hesitated when he saw us, glanced over his shoulder and came to the conclusion that he´d taken the wrong way. He vanished as suddenly as he´d appeared.  
  
Then I heard it too.  
A high-pitched screech that drove goosebumps over my arms. It sounded like fingernails scratching over a blackboard. "Like _this_!" Logan hissed, grabbed my shoulder and together we raced down the corridor. There it was again, nearer this time. Now I understood Logan´s panic. Nothing in this world could stop my running away from this sound. It was not the healthy fear of someone who´s walking through an insecure neighbourhood at night and hearing footsteps behind them.  
No, this was something else, a primal horror that shook my bones and crawled into my muscles to make my legs move even faster.  
Sparkles flew from metal claws when Logan held onto the wall to take the next turn. We reached one of the main 'living areas' of DownBelow, a place like a huge untidy garage with lots of self-made tents in piles of junk. Filthy children jumped away from us, vanishing in all directions like rats. A couple of heads appeared behind container when we passed them, but they didn´t stay long either.  
My eyes were glued to Logan´s shoulders during the mad race through Brown section and never left them. Adrenaline pumped in my blood, giving me just enough strength to keep up with the mutant.  
We would have run even longer, but suddenly the way in front of us was blocked by another pile of metal junk, parts of it reaching up to the ceiling.  
  
A dead end.  
  
We turned around, breathing heavily.  
The corridor behind us was empty. I rubbed my hands to keep them from trembling.  
"Is it gone?" My own whisper brought the goosebumps back to my arms.  
Logan took a few steps back the way we´d come, sniffed the air and growled under his breath.  
I followed him, desperately fighting the urge to grasp his arm.  
  
Everthing was quiet.  
  
After what seemed like hours the mutant relaxed.  
"I think we´re safe for the moment."  
  
His words would have been more reassuring if he´d retracted his claws on the way back.

* * *

Part 9

  
  
Nothing in our surroundings indicated a disturbance of peace, let alone a monster on the hunt.  
  
The kids had gathered again. They were eyeing us with suspicion when we walked past, but didn't run away. A little boy in rags rested in the lap of a black girl around twelve years of age, who leaned against a metal box. She was holding a small wooden stick in one hand. The other was caressing the little boy's head.  
Our eyes locked when I stepped over another kid lying on the floor. The girl raised the stick to her mouth and blew. A tune formed, a simple melody, yet somehow familiar.  
The small children started to whimper when the ground shook again. I held on to a piece of junk that looked more stable than the rest and glanced around to find Logan doing the same, only a few metres ahead. He motioned me to hurry up and swayed on. When the tremor was over I threw a last glance to the girl with the flute and then followed the mutant into the next corridor. 

-----ooooo-----

I should have taken Logan with me the first time around. Katar was much more willing to provide me with whatever liquids I needed when there was a jumpy mutant breathing down his neck. On the way back up we were carrying a box each, filled with clinking bottles. We passed a monitor showing a newsflash on ISN. There was a picture of B5 and despite Logan's impatient snarl I stopped to watch.  
A blonde woman read from the teleprompter.  
  
"...haven't received any new information on the tremors that keep shaking Babylon 5. Professor Hong from the National Space Science Centre in Kyoto told our reporters yesterday that these so-called "space quakes" don't resemble a similar series of events, happening only a few weeks ago, when a rumour of genetically enhanced telepaths found its way to ISN. It was said that at least one rogue telepath had telekinetic abilities and used them to threaten the station. PSI Corps denied these rumours, saying the cops they'd sent were on a diplomatic routine mission that was in no way connected to a rogue hunt. Babylon 5´s commanding staff was unavailable for interviews. Meanwhile, residents are leaving the station – temporarily as they say -, while maintenance crews work overtime to repair damage and secure high-risk areas, such as the fusion reactor and the atmosphere supply of the alien sections. These days, cargo ships leave immediately after unloading their goods. In the long ru n this could mean a great financial loss for B5´s business- and entertainment industry."  
The camera moved to the side, showing a man in a scientists´ lab coat sitting next to the newscaster. She smiled at him.  
"Professor Hong, thank you for joining us today."  
A professional nod was the response.  
"My pleasure."  
She went on.  
"What could be the cause of the space quakes on Babylon 5?"  
The professor waved his hand as if driving off a fly.  
"First of all, Nancy, there is no such thing as space quakes. Similar to its counterpart in the aviation industry it is a term widely used to explain reactions of engines and machinery being maltreated. In this case I believe the station's hasty construction results in certain reactions of the zero-gravity docking stabilisers. You see the nature of space..."  
  
At that point I was grabbed and pulled away from the monitor.  
"Once we're back you can watch all the news you want, but first you need to concentrate on getting us out of here!"  
  
I bit back a protest, grabbed my box more firmly to keep it from slipping through my arms and followed Logan into the busier sections of the station. 

-----ooooo-----

It wasn't working out.  
  
I realized that after scribbling the results of test 28 c.  
  
'Liquid: Centauri Ale  
Reaction: see Earth water, Narn beer, Drazi beer Drazi coffee.'  
  
With a sigh I crossed out the '', set a comma instead and added Markab 'kumal milk'. The door to the neighbouring room opened and Logan stepped in with a raised eyebrow. I shook my head.  
"Nothing. How 'bout...?" I glanced at the closing door. The mutant growled a negative answer.  
"Keep me-"I began.  
"-informed." He finished, turned around and left again. This could have been an amusing ritual by now, but neither of us found it particularly funny. A few moments later the door opened again for a certain gargoyle dog. Eyes without pupils looked around and found a comfy space next to a few boxes with medical equipment. He gave me a rough push with his head when he passed me by, moved in a circle and dropped, head between his paws.  
  
My attention went back to my work. I glared at the numbers and words I'd written in the previous hour, trying to find a clue. However, the only thing I realized was that my writing had become so bad I could hardly read it myself anymore.  
And the fact, of course, that this _wasn't working out_.  
_And_ that I hated doing research work, especially in small rooms.  
I realized that I didn't like space stations and the smell of recycled air.  
That I would rather be at home now, sinking into my comfortable chair, with the only liquid near me being a cup of steaming hot chocolate...  
_And_ that I would kill anyone who ever suggested a dimension slide again.  
  
Actually I realized quite a few things in the side room of MedLab 2.  
  
I tried to continue, but the strong feeling that I was wasting my time with a useless study while all around me everything was falling apart kept me more than a little distracted. Before the upcoming wave of claustrophobia drove me out of the room, away from my 'experiment', the door opened again. Logan stuck his head in.  
  
"He's awake." 

-----ooooo-----

"Ebenezer Scrooge." Franklin mumbled when he left the side of his patient and joined us outside at the observation window. Wolverine glared at him.  
"He said that?"  
The doctor shook his head.  
"Just a guess. There aren't many people who'd think I'm the "Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come". He's rather quiet, though."  
He walked to a nearby table and checked some readings on a screen before looking up again.  
"You can go in. But try not to excite him."  
  
Logan looked from the doctor to the patient behind glass, then to me and mouthed 'Ebenezer Scrooge?'  
I shrugged and stepped through the evolving doors into the room.  
  
After a frustrating five minutes we were driven out by an energetic nurse. Logan walked back to the window and growled. I leaned against the wall next to him.  
"You shouldn't have told him we're on a space station."  
"I thought that might help his memory to come back."  
  
Inside on the stretcher the professor's head jerked back and forth.  
"He thinks he's a 19th century asshole with a spirit problem. And you're telling him about space travel and dimension portals?"  
"So what do you suggest? Dancing around his bed singing "I'm the Ghost of Christmas Future"? How would that help?"  
The man on the bed moved slower, due to the sedative the nurse had given him.  
"At least he would have his consciousness for more than five minutes." I snapped, turned around and walked through the door into the side room. 

-----ooooo-----

I had given up on taking notes. With a mechanical movement my arm was throwing more stuff into the portal. Nothing much was changing. Most of the liquid still smashed against the screen I'd put up prior to my tests. When the door behind me opened I didn't turn around.  
"How about tea?" Logan's voice.  
"I tried. Reaction was the same as...I don't know, as a whole lot of other things."  
A cup was placed beside me on the floor.  
"Then I suggest you just drink it."  
I glanced at the cup, then up at Logan.  
"Oh. Thanks."  
  
The tea ran hot through my throat and brought some calmness back to my mind. I threw the mutant a suspicious glance and nodded towards the cup.  
"The doc didn't put anything in it, did he?"  
Logan looked insulted.  
"Would I give it to you if he did?"  
I considered that for a moment.  
"Yes, you would."  
He considered, too, and nodded.  
"Maybe. But it's only tea."  
I took another sip.  
"Any news on the professor?"  
"Still sleeping."  
"Right..."  
  
Getting up I put the cup on a table.  
"I need more of..." I glanced around, "...well, basically of everything. I'll be back soon."  
"I'm coming with you!"  
"No. I'll check out a guy who might have some special things in stock. He's rather..._shy_, if you catch my drift."  
He watched me silently.  
"What about...whatever it was down there?"  
"We found no sign of a thread. I have the strong suspicion that Bester is behind this. Maybe he or one of his people seeded this panic in our minds."  
"Now _that_ explanation will help me sleep tonight."  
"I'll take Bronx. Bester could never influence him. His reactions will tell me if there's something to fear."  
Before Logan could object, I pulled Bronx´ ear. The gargoyle blinked, shook his head and yawned, then came to his feet.  
"C'mon, buddy. We're going for a walk." 

-----ooooo-----

Katar had some connections to Babylon 5´s underworld. I only knew about the small fish, of course, but I figured that should be enough for the kind of merchandise I was looking for. I'd just finished the list in my head and calculated the cost for the goods when Bronx and I walked into a corridor in Red Section, not far from the Core Shuttle station.  
Suddenly the gargoyle stopped and sniffed the air.  
I moved to the side, pressed myself against the wall and looked around, ready to flee if necessary. He trotted a few steps forward with a somewhat curious expression and then bolted around the next corner. I was about to call him, when he hopped backwards and barked once in my direction.  
_And here we have the "language problem" again._ I thought, but since Bronx seemed relaxed and apparently wanted me to take a look at whatever there was I stepped forward and joined him at the intersection.  
A massive shadow was standing in the barely lit corridor. I glanced at Bronx who showed no sign of tension, and back at the shadow. Not a Shadow with a capital "S", but I wasn't sure I liked this one any better.  
His head moved, a subtle greeting. Maybe this was a chance to get the answers to some important questions. I pulled myself together and stepped forward.  
  
"Good afternoon, Ambassador Kosh." 

-----ooooo-----

He didn't talk at all on the way to his quarters. I was trotting after him, occasionally asking myself if I'd interpreted the few gestures correctly and he really wanted me to follow him. But then Bronx trotted right next to me, his eyes fixed on the Vorlon. He wasn't usually this concentrated, rather went this way and that, stopped to examine an interesting new smell or to beg passers-by for food.  
We lost the Ambassador when he entered the Diplomatic Quarters Section in Green 2. His place isn't exactly on the main route and of course he requires the special atmosphere of his home world. So he vanished behind the next door into a cloud of yellow smoke that would kill me soon after taking a few sniffs. I grabbed a gasmask from a shelf and looked at Bronx.  
"This thing will never fit on your muzzle. You wait here, alright? I'll be back soon."  
He sat down and watched me until I'd put the mask on. A bleeping sound announced that the inner door could be opened safely and I pressed the button, trying to slip through quick enough to keep the yellow smoke from drifting into the small room and poisoning my buddy.  
The door closed behind me with a hiss.  
I wandered down the corridor and stopped in front of an unmarked door. Before I could ring the "bell" it opened. Slowly I entered Kosh's quarters or study or whatever this room was. There wasn't much to see in the dim light, mostly smoke and some metal strutting here and there. A monitor had been placed at a wall, but the screen was black. Add a few blue light bulbs and the right sound equipment and techno fans would have a ball in here. Kosh was standing in the middle of the room, waiting. I stepped forward. His mouthpiece opened and for the first time I heard his voice.  
  
"You have brought great danger upon this station."  
He paused.  
"The people in your company cannot stay here. They must leave."  
  
I waited, but that was all he said. Fine, I could be succinct as well.  
"Two words: 'Why' and 'How'?"  
"Three words."  
  
Just what I needed now - a smartass Vorlon.  
"'Why' then?"  
  
The metal strutting behind Kosh began to vibrate. A second later another tremor ran through the station. I leaned against the wall next to the door. The Vorlon didn´t move. His artificial voice rang in my ears.  
  
"A powerful mind leaves traces. Traces are being tracked."  
  
The tremor stopped and I let go of the wall.  
"What does that mean – for simple minded people like me?"  
"They must leave."  
  
I had a hard time controlling my emotions, but female intuition told me kicking Kosh´s butt wouldn't be the ideal way of handling this situation. I'd probably just damage his suit and my foot. It wouldn't help improving my diplomatic skills either and according to my teachers at Assassins´ Guild there was still a lot to improve. So I could only grind my teeth.  
  
"Or what?"  
"The dimensional centre will be destroyed. They will die. As will others."  
"How?"  
"You need to hurry. The hunters are close."  
"Are you talking about the Shadows? Or are they someone else?"  
"Worse than Shadows."  
  
The audience was over, I could feel it.  
  
"Please, I need more information."  
"You need to hurry."  
"But I haven't figured out how to cross the dimensional line!"  
"Ask the other traveller."  
  
He stood there waiting for me to leave.  
"_Thank you_ for your time." I mumbled when I turned around, adjusted the gasmask and left his quarters.  
  
Now I only had to go to Bronx and ask him how to jump back. I could already imagine the 'dialogue':  
_'Hey buddy, do you know how we get everybody back home? If you tell me you get a huge pizza at my place.'  
'Wooohhh!'_  
  
Although the gargoyle seemed to comprehend a great deal of what I told him this mutual understanding was usually connected to food. He had different ways to tell me he was hungry, a bunch of affectionate grunts and even more mischievous looks. The way he held his ears told me about his mood and when he was especially happy he simply knocked me over, pinned me to the ground and drove his tongue all over my face.  
There were no words in his language that could possibly answer my questions about dimension leaping.  
  
The visit to Kosh´s quarters had been a complete waste of time.  
If only I _had_ kicked his butt...I wouldn't know more now, but I´d certainly feel a great deal better...

* * *

  
  
Part 10

  
  
When I came back to MedLab Logan was waiting outside at the door.  
"Well?"  
I stared at him in genuine puzzlement, my mind still wrapped around the conversation with Kosh.  
"Well what?"  
He stared back.  
"Your 'shopping trip'. Either you didn´t get much or your underground merchant has some sort of delivery service."  
I slapped my forehead.  
"Damn. I forgot!"  
A glare of disbelief was the answer.  
"That´s a joke!"  
"No, I...you see, there was this guy, who...never mind, I thought I might get the solution to our problem. But he only warned me."  
"He _threatened_ you?"  
"No, he just said you guys were a danger to the station and needed to leave."  
The mutant snorted and shook his head.  
"And did he also say how the hell we´re supposed to do that?"  
"Not really. He said something about asking 'the other traveller', but-" I gestured towards Bronx who was just strolling around the corner, "-it´s not like I´d understand dimensional technobabble if it comes from a human – let alone a gargoyle dog."  
  
Logan clenched a fist.  
"Who where you talking to? If he knows anything I could _persuade_ him to help us."  
  
I shrugged.  
"Unfortunately violence won´t help in this case. Kosh is out of our – even _your_ - league."  
Before the mutant could respond I raised a hand.  
"Believe me just once, okay? I don´t like it either."  
For the first time it occurred to me that we were still standing outside the infirmary.  
"What are you doing here anyway? Did the doc throw you out?"  
There was an uncomfortable silence, then:  
"No, he didn´t. I decided to leave."  
I raised an eyebrow, waiting for the rest of the story, which came in little chunks and pieces.  
"He woke up again."  
"So who does he think he is now?"  
A growl escaped from the corner of his mouth.  
"I don´t know."  
"You didn´t ask him?" His glance went past me, but I wouldn´t be diverted. With a kn owing nod I concluded.  
"Dr. Franklin wouldn´t let you see him."  
This time his eyes lit visibly.  
"He and this security guard? As if _they_ could stop me!"  
"What was it then?"  
I´ve never seen Logan this uncomfortable before.  
  
"He..., well, he..."  
Why didn´t he just spit it out? Alarm rang in my mind. As if we didn´t have enough problems already.  
"What?!"  
  
"He PINCHED my arse!"  
  
Fashion tip to myself: Mouth looks better closed. Only Assassins´ discipline held my facial features together.  
"He...did..._what?_"  
"He pinched my arse! And then he said I looked like some guy named...'Rum Rum Tugger'."  
Assassins´ discipline never had to hold against something like this!  
Without the wall as support I´d have dropped to the floor, a twitching bundle of insanity.  
When oxygen was reaching my brain again I swept away a few tears and stood up straight, trying to ignore the angry growl from the mutant.  
"That´s NOT FUNNY!"  
The great Wolverine being pinched in the butt by a guy with a foible for "Cats"? I nearly lost it again, but a glance in the face of disaster sobered me enough to talk normally.  
"Well, he IS out of his mind...or, on the contrary, his mind is full of other people. You can´t blame him for-"  
"I don´t blame him for anything! I just want to get out of here. What else can we do?"  
Good question. One that´s been bouncing around my head for a while now.  
"I don´t know. I´ve never been in a mess like this. _You´re_ supposed to be the superhero – can´t you remember a similar situation from your past?"  
"My memory isn´t very reliable, as you know. And what do you mean I´m 'supposed to be the superhero'?"  
"Um..."  
Right, that was a topic we hadn´t covered before. He didn´t know about movies and comics telling his story. Freakin´ comics! For a moment I´d forgotten that he was the 'movie Wolverine'. I knew about some of the things he´d done, some places he´d been – but from the _comics_!  
No idea how much of the original history of this character they´d packed into the motion picture. It didn´t matter anyway – my knowledge of the comic events was extremely limited and there was no plot about a dimension jump I recalled.  
"…figure of speech."  
  
The Lab door opened and Dr. Franklin stepped out.  
"I suggest you come in. You may find this interesting." 

-----ooooo-----

For a moment I thought Xavier had returned.  
The professor´s body was sitting upright on the stretcher, watching us with a calm, but serious expression when we walked in. Only Logan´s reaction – or rather the lack of it – made me suspicious and I kept a safety margin from the bed.  
"Hi. I´m Chris. That´s Logan. You already know Dr. Franklin."  
  
The man in the bed nodded.  
"Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the USS Enterprise. Could you please explain to me where I am and what is going on?" 

-----ooooo-----

Part of me had figured out what _was_ going on long before this moment. This was more of a confirmation than a surprise, so I didn´t have to pick up my jaw from the ground.  
"It´s a long and rather complicated story, Captain. You´re on a space station named Babylon 5."  
There was a growl coming from behind.  
"You think that was wise?"  
  
Picard glanced around, then tried to get out of the bed.  
"What happened to my ship? And-" A second, unsuccessful attempt. Dr. Franklin threw me a warning glance, but I shook my head. This was the first personality that could deal with the situation, maybe even help finding a solution. I didn´t want to lose him to the sandman any time soon.  
"Please, sir, calm down."  
"Why can´t I move my legs?"  
His voice sounded more irritated than scared and I wanted to keep it that way.  
"Because they´re not yours."  
  
If you confuse a person you always gain a couple of seconds in which they try to figure out the meaning of what you just said/ did. That means their brain is occupied with problem solving and spends less of its capacity to build up 'panic particles' to fuel the fight-or-flight-muscles.  
The more curious a person is the better this trick works. I´d read that somewhere and apparently it was true.  
  
The Captain sank back and threw me a suspicious glance.  
"What do you mean, they 'aren´t mine'?"  
  
"This is a parallel universe. Your mind is currently stuck inside a body that looks very much like your own, apart from the fact that your host is paralyzed."  
  
Logan leaned over and whispered hoarsly in my ear.  
"How do you know what he looks like?"  
"Tell you later."  
  
After a pause Picard spoke again.  
"This is extremely hard to believe. How did I get here?"  
  
"That´s the part we don´t know anything about either. Your alter ego is a professor from Earth who only came here for a visit himself and has already played host to a Duke, a hostage taker, Ebenezer Scrooge and an interior designer, all in the same body."  
"Ebenezer Scrooge?"  
I made a face.  
"Don´t ask."  
  
There was a pause the new personality used to eye us all carefully, then:  
"How long did these people stay?"  
I looked at the doc, who was standing near the bed, in case his patient flipped again. Dr. Franklin consulted a pad, then shrugged.  
"Differently. From a few minutes to a couple of hours. The time span seems to decrease, though."  
"Then I may be gone in a few minutes?"  
"I can´t tell. Possibly."  
  
"So..." the Captain paused again to look around.  
"...why me?"  
  
"Some sort of interdimensional connection." I improvised without hesitation. "My guess is that you, like the other personalities, are somehow connected to the professor."  
  
"What kind of connection?"  
  
_You´re all characters played by Patrick Stewart._ Probably the most accurate, but not the most advisable answer.  
  
"We´re working on that. In the meantime: What do you know about dimension travel?" 

-----ooooo-----

It was considerably more than I did, but still no help for our situation.  
Thanks to the Captain´s own curiosity about this dimension we strayed from the main subject of our conversation a lot. And since I always had to assess which questions I could answer truthfully and which evasively it turned out to be a rather straining dialogue.  
  
After a while Logan began pacing through the room, then left. I murmured an excuse and went after him.  
  
Bronx was wagging his tail at a scared looking nurse on the other side of the room, trying to persuade her to feed him. I whistled to get his attention, then shook my head and he turned around and sullenly walked away from the relieved woman.  
  
I could feel the Captain´s glance following me through the side window of his room when I caught up with Logan in front of Dr. Franklin´s office.  
"Hey! What´s going on?"  
He threw a glance around before turning to me.  
"I could ask you the same question. You wanna play the diplomatic game – fine. But get us out of here first!"  
"I´m trying. With this personality we´ve got at least a chance to get out of here. I mean, this is the first guy who has dealt with this sort of situation before." I hesitated.  
"Well, maybe not _this_ sort of situation, but-"  
"See? That´s what I´m talking about. Last thing you two were discussing was the political structure of some alien species´ gouvernment...Mingar."  
"Minbar."  
"Whatever! This is not helping. We need to get home and this is not the way!"  
"Oh no? I wasn´t aware we had so many options. What _is_ the way?"  
"We should talk to people who know what´s happening. This guy who warned you."  
"He´s not exactly the talkative kind."  
Claws shot out.  
"I´ll make him."  
I shook my head.  
"You won´t. Look, I´ve buried my "kick-his-ass"-attitude, either. It´s not working in his case. I´m sure we´ll have more success when trying to follow his advice."  
"I don´t see you questioning your dog!"  
"Bronx is not the only "traveller" here. The term applies to you two as well. Kosh could have meant that one of the professor´s personalities has the key to this problem. So I´m questioning the guys that show up. Right now it´s Captain Picard. And he´s by far the best chance we´ve had yet."  
"How come you know so much about this guy anyway? You had no idea who this Henry Grey fellow was before Sinclair told you. And this Captain of yours is not even a historic figure. Or a criminal from TV, for that matter."  
He threw me a suspicious glance.  
"Or is he?"  
At least this time I could wholeheartedly tell him:  
"No, he certainly isn´t." But I also decided against telling anybody the whole story. Couldn´t be healthy for this or any other dimension.  
"I know you like to be in control, but can´t you just trust me on this? I´m sure it is the best chance we have."  
He did not look pleased.  
"If you don´t have a clue within the next hour I´m going to this riddlemaster of yours and see if he remembers a little more about the things he didn´tell you."  
"But-"  
"That´s my last word!"  
  
Not pleased at all...  
  
"Alright. I´ll do what I can. If Captain Picard has-"  
  
An impressed whistle was coming from the door. We turned. The black girl I´d seen in DownBelow earlier was standing at the entrance to MedLab, the strap of a battered backpack over one shoulder. She was slightly older than twelve, maybe 13 or 14 - I´m not good at guessing ages.  
She wore her hair in dreadlocks, about shoulderlength. Dirty jeans and a sweatshirt that had probably been grey once completed the picture.  
  
Before we could react she spotted us and walked over.  
"Man, this place is _huge_. You say "MedLab", but it´s more like a medical _complex_."  
Logan threw me a questioning glance and I shrugged with a "don´t-ask-me"-expression. He turned to the girl.  
"If you don´t _mind_, this is a private conversation."  
She grinned.  
"Oh, go ahead - I don´t mind at all." Without taking the backpack off she slipped her hand into one of its pockets and pulled a pair of bend chocolate bars out. We continued staring at her while she unwrapped one.  
"You want one, too? It´s real chocolate, not the lousy substitute they sell here."  
I shook my head.  
"Who are you?"  
The girl extended her hand.  
"Caroline. Call me 'Crash'."  
_Crash?_  
Hesitantly I shook her hand.  
"I´m-"  
"Chris. I know. And your blue monster´s name is Bronx. I´ve done my homework, you know."  
_Homework?_  
"That´s...Logan." I continued, half expecting that she would interrupt me again.  
The girl grinned again.  
"I didn´t think he would answer to "Leopold"."  
I goggled at her, while Logan´s eyes narrowed.  
"Who _are_ you?"  
He would have gotten more reaction if he´d talked to the wall. Caroline (or "Crash") turned to the professor´s room and beamed at the two of us.  
"And you got Captain Picard, too. That´s really cool!"  
My eyes went from the patient in the bed to the girl.  
"Who the-?"  
"What happened? He can´t be space sick, can he? I mean that would be _too_ weird..."  
_Talking about weird..._  
"He´s not space sick. And he´s not Captain Picard either." I said, while trying to remember the point where this conversation had entered Twilight Zone.  
"What do you mean, he´s not Picard? I heard you saying-"  
"WHO ARE YOU?!" Logan´s voice roared through the whole lab. A nurse dropped a tablet with medical instruments and two assistant surgeons glanced up from the panel they´ve been working on.  
Crash took another bite from her chocolate bar.  
"Y´nee da calm dawn." she waved at Logan with the bar and swallowed.  
"No, seriously – I´m here to pick you up." she continued in my direction, while searching around for a bin to throw the wrapping paper in. My ears began to ring slightly.  
"Me?"  
She stopped searching and stuffed the paper into a pocket of her backpack.  
"Sure. But I´m afraid you´ll have to take these guys home first."  
"You know-?"  
"You need to hurry up. Drop them off wherever you found them and come back, alright? I´ll wait here for you."  
I was still trying to adjust to the new situation.  
"Does this mean you came here the same way I – we – did?"  
"If he´s not Picard, who is he then?"  
I began to suspect she was doing this intentionally.  
"Charles X. Xavier. Look, if you-"  
Her eyes grew round.  
"_Professor_ Charles X. Xavier?!"  
"Yeah, why?"  
"_The_ Professor Charles X. Xavier, who´s a telepath?!"  
"Um...yeah, that one."  
"That´s bad. I mean that´s _really_ bad!"  
"Wh-"  
She grabbed my arm.  
"You need to get them out here _at once_!"  
If I´d just got a penny for every time someone said this to me since we ´d arrived on this station. I made a face.  
"No kidding. How?"  
The girl looked at me as if I´d grown two additional ears.  
"Same way you came here, of course."  
Logan sighed and closed his eyes.  
"We tried. Whatever brought us here isn´t working anymore."  
Crash thought for a moment.  
"How long have you been on B5?"  
I shrugged.  
"About a day. Why?"  
" ´cause you can only jump again after 24 hours."  
Logan and I exchanged glances. Mental arithmetic had never been one of my strengths, but I tried it anyway.  
"That would mean we could jump again in-"  
The voice of Doctor Franklin made me jump at that very moment.  
"17 minutes. From now." We turned around and saw him watching us with interest.  
"I´m sorry, I overheard the last part of your conversation."  
The ringing in my ears grew stronger. My eyes swept past Logan, who still didn´t seem to know if he should believe the news, and searched the girl´s gaze.  
"Are you sure about this? The portal works again after 24 hours?"  
Crash shrugged.  
"If Lars says so, that´s how it is."  
"Right." I groaned weakly, "We wouldn´t question _Lars_, would we?"  
Logan bent over me.  
"Who's Lars?"  
Someone was laughing. After a moment I realized it was me.  
"How the hell should _I_ know?"  
Crash didn´t offer an explanation.  
"You´ll meet him soon. We just drop your friends at their place first."  
I looked at Logan, my eyes sending a desperate plea that he might make this decision. His face lit for the first time.  
  
"Sounds good to me." 

-----ooooo-----

"She knows the professor. _And_ this guy, too!" Logan whispered in my ear, while we watched the girl´s conversation with Xavier´s alter ego. The dialogue was very similar to the one before. It seemed to be one of Crash´s habits to verbally drive over her interlocutors.  
"She must be the 'traveller' Kosh was talking about." I whispered back, "If she´s right we´ll get back to your place in about...13 minutes."  
"You wanna come back and go with her afterwards?"  
Crash had turned the chair next to the bed around, kneeled on it and used two small protocol pads as starships. She seemed to be replaying a scene from a science fiction movie. I ignored the desperate look Picard shot us.  
"Dunno. Maybe. I mean she _is_ rather...strange. But if she knows what´s going on here...and besides: Bronx likes her, too."  
The gargoyle was sitting behind the chair watching the girl attentively. Logan snorted.  
"He´d like anyone who gives him food. She bought him with two chocolate bars!"  
"Bronx is greedy, but when it comes to judging people I trust him completely."  
The mutant didn´t object, but continued staring at the scene in front of us.  
"I wonder what she meant when she said it´s a "bad thing" that the professor´s a telepath."  
I nodded slowly and checked my watch again.  
"Let´s ask her."  
When I stepped forward to do just that Picard´s expression turned from desperation to gratefulness – and suddenly to surprise. Another change of personalities?  
"Admiral..."  
But then: What personality would take _me_ for an Admiral?  
"…Chekov!"  
"Chek-?"  
I turned to the door just like everyone else.  
  
A man in a dark suit was standing in the doorframe with three other people in the background, blocking the way out. I didn´t blame Xavier´s personality for mistaking him as Chekov. If he´d had more time for a careful scan he´d have realized that those cold eyes didn´t fit the character of the Russion navigator who once belonged to the legendary crew.  
  
Bester stepped forward and waved one hand. Two of his collegues slid into the room like snakes, stopping at his sides, faces expressionless. He turned to me and smiled his pleasant smile.  
"You seem to like laboratories. You certainly spend a lot of time in them."  
  
There were footsteps from outside and Franklin appeared in the door.  
"This is a medical facility. I must ask you to leave at once – you are disturbing my patients."  
He pushed himself through the group and stopped next to the bed, shielding Xavier´s body against the Psi Cops.  
  
Bester didn´t even turn in his direction, but kept his eyes on me.  
"I´m afraid this is a matter of Earth security, doctor. We have orders to take this girl and everyone in her company with us."

* * *

Part 11

  
  
"The hell you will!" I retreated a few steps to make space for the bulldozer.  
_"Bronx!"_  
A satisfied grunt was coming from two sides at once. Two fighters were suddenly back in their element, storming past me, one with gleaming teeth, the other with gleaming blades.  
Almost lazily the two nameless Psi Cops raised their hands.  
  
Bronx leaped forward – and was stopped in midair by an invisible force. He was just floating there, his paws kicking the empty space around him. An angry yelp was audible when he moved his legs faster, trying to get to the people he felt were responsible for his situation.  
Logan had already raised his arm with a snarl, ready to tear the other guy to pieces, but stopped at almost the same point. I could see his muscles straining, but he remained where he was as if glued to the floor.  
  
There was a stifled curse behind me and then the girl ran past, dodged around Bester and another Cop and shot through the door. Bester´s expression never changed. An even louder curse coming from outside told me plainly that her escape had been prevented.  
Another curse – a man´s voice – told me that she continued fighting nevertheless.  
  
Bester´s smile broadened.  
"No attack, Miss Stein? Don't you want to throw yourself onto me and – what was it? – yes: rip my lungs out of my chest?"  
  
I didn't move. What would be the point in attacking him? He had a whole lot of powerful telepaths on his side and not even Sinclair could override an order by the Psi Corps. Since I didn't have any water on me the only way out of here was blocked, even if Crash was right and it would open any minute now. There was really no option left.  
Bester had won.  
All we could do was to follow him and his goons and...  
_Wait a minute!_  
  
I grabbed what looked like a pen from a nearby table and threw it right at Bester's face. It bounced off his forehead and fell harmlessly to the floor. Only for a brief moment his pupils widened in surprise and I felt the dark cloud of depression rising from my thoughts.  
  
_"Stop meddling with my mind!"_  
  
"It's for your own good, I assure you. We wouldn't want you or anyone in your company getting hurt, now, would we? Why don't you just relax, while-"  
  
"What' going on here?" came an icy voice from the door. This time even Bester's head turned. The Psi Cop who'd been waiting outside was pushed into the room, followed by Garibaldi who had trained his weapon on him. Sinclair stepped in afterwards, one hand on the shoulder of the shaken girl, who absently rubbed her upper arm where she'd most certainly been held by her captor. With satisfaction I saw that the guy was bleeding from a bite mark on the back of his hand. Crash caught my impressed glance and smiled back grimly.  
  
"Commander. Always a pleasure to see you." Bester said quietly while turning around.  
"Unfortunately I can't say that about you." came the cold reply. "Why are you attacking these people?"  
Taking into account that the picture presenting itself in this room rather indicated that the _Psi Cops_ were being attacked the question showed that Sinclair already knew Bester quite well.  
  
"We are merely trying to convince your guests to accompany us." He waved and the Cop with the bleeding hand pulled a pad out of a pocket and handed it over to his boss, who in turn gave it to the Commander.  
"All five of them are coming with me. I'm afraid there's nothing you can do." He paused, then continued with an evil smile.  
"Well, actually this is not correct. I officially ask you for assistance in bringing them to the next ship to Earth."  
  
Garibaldi looked like he had something to say about this, but before he could open his mouth Sinclair spoke.  
"I´m afraid I can´t spare any security officers right now. They are needed to clear areas that have been damaged by the last quake."  
He touched Garibaldi's shoulder briefly and the Chief of Security lowered his PPG, but didn´t put it away.  
  
The Psi Cop´s lips curled, but he didn´t comment the refusal. Instead he waved to his men.  
"We are leaving. Make sure they are secured."  
He glanced at Logan and Bronx who were still unable to move. Pure hatred shone out of two pairs of eyes when the telepath walked past. Bronx moved his feet again, growling quietly. Logan couldn´t move. I saw the muscles of his jaws working as if he tried to speak, but his mouth remained closed.  
  
"Johnson, you take him." Bester addressed 'bite mark' and pointed to the professor who had watched the whole scene silently. Before he or his alter ego could object Franklin stepped into the way of the Cop.  
"I won´t allow that. This man is in no condition to travel."  
  
Bester snorted scornfully.  
"You´re lying, doctor. Whatever happened to his mind doesn´t affect his body. He´s in no immediate danger." Lips pressed tightly together the doctor watched as Johnson glanced at the hover chair that promptly moved to the side of the bed. His boss smirked at the B5 staff.  
  
"A good day to you, Commander. Doctor. Chief."  
  
"Commander!"  
"There´s nothing _I_ can do, Michael." Sinclair said slowly, watching me. "The paperwork is in order."  
It was clear that he expected me to do something.  
To disappear like last time.  
But I didn´t have the means to do it and Bester knew it.  
  
Crash left Sinclair´s side and walked to me.  
"Whaddaya waiting for?" she hissed, while watching Johnson, who exchanged glances with Bester.  
"Do _you_ have any water on you?" I hissed back, "Because _I_ don´t!"  
She was just about to reply when suddenly her hands flew to her mouth and she stumbled back into a chair where she remained, her eyes rolling furiously. Johnson rubbed the skin around the bite mark and kept staring at her with malicious glee.  
  
"That´s enough." said Bester quietly, "I won´t allow any more interruptions."  
I didn't like the look on his face when he glanced at the girl. As if he'd just received an unexpected prize.  
  
Bronx floated back to the floor and he and Logan moved forward, though not out of their own free will as one could easily conclude from their strained faces.  
Johnson lifted Xavier´s body from the bed into the hover chair. Apparently he could concentrate on keeping the girl in her seat without looking at her directly. I had no doubt that he was the one responsible, because Bester had never been able to move stuff (let alone people) around like that.  
"This is outrageous." Picard remarked with as much dignity as he could muster while being treated like a crate of goods. "What right do you have to perform this kind of police state methods?"  
  
"All but the moral right." Franklin said bitterly and watched Johnson pushing the hover chair with his patient past him. After a sideways glance at the Commander he followed them outside. The only people left in the room - apart from me - were now Sinclair, Garibaldi, Bester and the girl, who still couldn´t move.  
  
The Psi Cop held out a hand for her.  
"This way..."  
Crash slowly took her hands from her mouth and stood. I expected her to fling herself on Bester and sink her teeth into the palm in front of her eyes, but she just moved on with an empty expression.  
  
"Stop that!" I spat fiercely at Bester, wishing once more that I could wipe the smile from his face.  
  
"I'm afraid I can´t do that. She already injured one of my men. I won´t take this risk again. If you please-"  
  
"Let her go! I don´t even _know_ her!"  
"That's irrelevant."  
  
My feet began moving before my mind gave a conscious order and I guess this time the depressing thoughts were all home-made. I didn´t see a way out and certainly Bester would make sure that I didn´t get a chance to escape again. He even found a way around Bronx, so no help could be expected from this side either.  
But I wouldn't give up. I´d keep my eyes open all the way: If there was the slightest chance for escape I´d take it. _And leave everyone else back here?_  
Maybe I should scrape my money together and take evening courses: "How to behave like a hero without making a total fool out of yourself".  
  
Stepping into the main room of MedLab I found everyone staring at the door leading to the corridor. The person standing there was so massive it filled the whole doorway.  
  
My heart leaped.  
  
It was Kosh. 

-----ooooo-----

I didn´t allow myself to hope the Vorlon´s appearance would solve our problems. As far as I remembered they tended to push people in the right direction, but didn't get involved in the action themselves.  
  
"Ambassador Kosh." Sinclair´s voice sounded just as surprised as the doctor´s who walked around the group of people to greet the Vorlon.  
"Do you need...any help?" Franklin asked, while checking the encounter suit for cracks or other signs of damage. Kosh tilted his head and watched the group in front of him. His artificial voice rang through the room.  
  
"I am here to help."  
  
He clearly wasn't going to move out of the doorway.  
  
Bester stepped forward and cleared his throat. He didn´t sound as cold as usual, but still rather impatient.  
"_Excuse_ me. My name is Bester, Earth Psi Corps. We are in a hurry, so if you´d _please_ step asi-"  
  
"They must leave at once!"  
  
Bester looked at his colleagues, then his prisoners and back to the Vorlon with a strained smile.  
"We were just about to."  
  
"They have to go back where they came from!"  
  
The Psi Cop shook his head.  
"With all due respect, Ambassador, I have my orders. They are coming with me!"  
  
The Vorlon´s head dropped a little.  
"Then there is no other way."  
  
I jumped back in shock when Bester´s body sagged against mine. All around me people dropped to the ground with no obvious reason. Nurses, doctors, even patients who´d been sitting upright in bed sank back into their cushions. Johnson had fallen on his bleeding hand. The part of his face that was still visible showed a dark red smear from ear to nose.  
  
"What the-"  
  
Once the Psi Cops were lying unconscious on the ground Logan recovered quickly. With his claws still out he looked like the last man standing on a battlefield. Only that he wasn´t the "last": Bronx was sniffing around the people on the floor, got hold of Bester´s boot, pulled it off the man´s foot with some difficulty and began chewing on it. I didn´t see Crash and assumed for a moment that she´d fallen, too, but the black girl kneeled next to Sinclair and Garibaldi, feeling their pulses. I glanced at Kosh who hadn´t moved at all, then walked over to her. Both men´s faces showed a peaceful expression.  
"Well?"  
The girl looked up.  
"They're breathing alright. What about them?" she nodded towards Bester and his men.  
I glared at her.  
"Who cares?"  
She shrugged and used one hand to brush a few dreadlocks out of her face.  
"Good point. So what just happened?"  
I offered her my hand and pulled her up from the ground.  
"Beats me. Let´s ask Mr. Sandman over there."  
  
Together we stared at Kosh who was still standing in the doorway.  
Logan stopped at our side.  
"Is this the guy-?"  
  
I nodded and turned to the Vorlon.  
"What did you-?"   
  
"You must leave before it´s too late!" rattled the mechanic voice.  
  
"What did you do to them?"  
"There is no time. Leave now."  
"But-"  
Crash tugged on the sleeve of my shirt.  
"Come on, let's go. Who knows how long this Bester character is going to sleep."  
My head was spinning. There were still so many unanswered questions. But she was right, of course.  
"I still need...I need some water."  
"Can't this wait until we're somewhere else?!"  
I glared at her.  
"How am I _supposed_ to get somewhere else without water?"  
"What are you talking about?"  
"I'm talking about the water opening the portal."  
She looked as if she was seeing me for the first time.  
"The portal opens after 24 hours. Period. The only thing you needed water for would be to turn it into a water slide!"  
"But-"  
  
Another tremor shook the station. Instinctively everybody grabbed the nearest available object that would support them and waited for the eruptions to pass. Kosh didn't move. I began to suspect that his suit was a flying unit that moved over the ground like the hover chai-.  
Oh no!  
The professor!  
  
I turned around and spotted the chair a few metres behind us, drifting slightly towards a nearby shelf. The man in it seemed to be unconscious, his head on his chest lolling from one side to the other.  
  
There was a loud curse. Logan jumped over a stretcher and stumbled to the chair with glass falling around him and smashing on the floor.  
  
He grabbed the chair firmly and steered it back to us.  
  
"I don´t care who or what this guy is!" the mutant roared furiously when he stopped next to us, struggling to keep his balance.  
"But we _will_ take his advice and leave _at once!"_  
  
Crash grabbed my arm.  
"Quick - open the portal!"  
  
I raised my hand and concentrated hard. The blue circle appeared in the middle of the room like it had before – only this time the air around it sang and when I stepped closer I felt my hand being dragged towards the tunnel.  
  
"It's working again!"  
  
Crash nodded towards the portal.  
"Now think of where we need to go."  
"The...the mansion." I concentrated on house, garden and woods of the huge X-Men premises. The portal's swishing sound increased.  
"GO!" I shouted over the noise at Logan, who´d taken the motionless body of his fellow mutant out of the chair and looked back hesitatingly as if he didn´t want to leave us behind. But after a second he turned around, jumped and both disappeared in the blue vortex.  
  
I felt the tremors fading away and gave the girl a push.  
"You´re next!"  
She also hung back for a moment.  
"Don´t stay too long or you´ll be stuck here for another day!" she shouted, then leaped forward and vanished.  
  
Staring around wildly I found Bronx and whistled for him. The gargoyle dropped the boot and trotted over. His ears twitched, the eyes wandered to Kosh. None of the people lying around me moved.  
"What's going to happen to them?" I barked at Kosh, who tilted his head once more. His voice was clearly audible, even through the storm around.  
  
"They are not in danger. But they will forget."  
"What do you mean? How much will they forget? Will they..." I paused, but felt the question was too important for me. "Will they forget _us_?" Bronx yipped as if wondering the same.  
"Only their memories of this day will be altered. No one will remember the people in your company."  
Something moved in the corridor behind Kosh. Something big and black. Bronx started growling.  
  
"What-?"  
  
"You must leave _now_." the Vorlon´s voice interrupted me. Slowly the black thing moved in our direction. It almost looked like a Shadow crawling towards us. My entrails performed a somersault.  
"Kosh, there´s something-" The gargoyle was growling so hard now his whole body was shaking.  
  
The mouthpiece of Kosh´s suit opened. A blue flash hit me in the chest and pushed me gently towards the vortex. Bronx lost his footing as well and fell in next to me, howling angrily. Before the entrance closed I heard a furious screech, then there was only the blue whirl pushing me through time and space.

* * *

Epilogue

  
  
The tunnel disappeared and I fell on soft ground. Mouth and nostrils full of grass blades I shook my head, sneezed and looked around. Only faint lights in a distance kept me from thinking I´d gone blind. A breeze touched my face and the sweetest air I´d ever breathed reached my lungs.  
"Gesundheit."  
Someone lifted me up. It took a moment until my eyes had gotten used to the darkness, then the beam of a flashlight shone directly into my face.  
"Marie!" scolded the women´s voice I´d heard before. "Point that thing somewhere else."  
"Sorry."  
The light vanished and I opened my eyes again.  
Storm was standing in front of me, covered in sparkling stars and with a concerned expression on her face.  
"Are you alright?"  
The sparkling stars faded away when I blinked and nodded.  
"Yeah. What about the others?"  
  
Bronx brushed against my knee and sniffed my hand as if to ask if I carried anything to eat. I ignored him. Storm smiled and pointed a few metres ahead, where a group of people was standing next to an old oak tree.  
"They seem to be fine, too. We felt it wise to clear the area for you two."  
  
I staggered forward, my head still a bit foggy. After a couple of metres Crash came running towards me.  
"_There_ you are! Did he say anything else?"  
The fog cleared a little.  
"Who?"  
"Kosh!"  
"Um...no, not really. But there was something behind him-"  
We reached the others and my glance fell on the professor, who was just being lifted into his wheelchair by Scott and Logan.  
Before I could ask he turned to me.  
"That was a very...interesting experience."  
Relief swept over me.  
"You´re back!"  
He smiled.  
"The other personalities disappeared when we left the station. Much to my regret if I may add – I´d have loved to find out more about them."  
Well, _I_ sure was glad he didn´t, but rather kept my mouth shut.  
  
"We can talk inside." Jean said firmly and waved to the mansion. Everybody moved in the direction she indicated. Logan looked at me quickly and I gave him a thumb-up. Seeing that everything was fine he merely nodded and turned back to Scott who'd just made some witty remark about him and needed a verbal punch.  
Crash glanced at her watch and frowned, then caught my glance and walked over to me.  
"50 minutes until take-off."  
Surprised I raised an eyebrow.  
"I thought you said it was always 24 hours."  
"Well, yeah – for you. But since I didn´t jump through my portal, but used yours, my countdown didn´t stop. And I´m due in 50...no, in exactly 49 minutes."  
There were so many questions I wanted to ask her, but by the time we'd arrived at the mansion we were surrounded by curious students and conversation of any kind was impossible.  
  
It was only when we were sitting in the school's dining room that I remembered the circumstances that had led to our dimension jump in the first place.  
Frowning I turned to Jean Grey.  
"Where´s Magneto?"  
  
She sighed.  
"Back in prison. It took some effort to smooth things over, especially with the professor missing, but we managed. Mystique and the others got away, though."  
Someone placed a bowl with rice and vegetables and a fork in front of me. All of a sudden my stomach forgot the black creature in the corridor and remembered that it had been ages since I´d last eaten a decent meal. After checking if Bronx had got something as well (he was wolfing down two giant steaks in a corner of the room) I began eating. Crash, sitting opposite of me, had already emptied her bowl and accepted another helping from Storm, who, grinning broadly, left two steaming salad bowls of food within easy reach of her and turned to the door to shoo away another couple of kids lingering around, hoping to find out what had happened.  
  
At the other end of the long table Professor Xavier, Logan and Scott were talking quietly, filling each other in about the events since the portal had taken two of them away. Jean glanced at them, then to me.  
"You don´t mind if I...?"  
  
I shook my head, mouth full, and managed a "is alwight, we fine". She smiled and went over to join her colleagues. Storm walked by after closing the door, winked and took a chair next to her. Out of the corner of an eye I saw an ear appearing in the wooden door, but we were too far away for Kitty to hear anything.  
  
Crash was well through her third helping and pushed the salad bowls to the side, facing me.  
"He´s taller than I thought he would be." she said quietly.  
Again her train of thoughts was far behind the next station before I could jump on.  
"Huh?"  
"Scott! Man, those shades look _so_ cool!"  
I swallowed my food.  
"Um...right. Look, what I wanted to ask you before-"  
"Shame he´s already got someone."  
I forced myself not to look in the direction of the mutants at the end of the table in case Jean was picking up some of the thoughts behind these words.  
"Yeah… About this whole portal thing-"  
"Taking them with you was not a good idea." she stated matter-of-factly and fished a piece of meat out of the bowl. "It was an emergency. I had no other choice!" I replied irritated. She _was_ doing this on purpose. Before she could open her mouth again, I quickly asked,  
  
"Why 'Crash'?"  
Seeing _her_ at a loss made a pretty nice change.  
"Why what?"  
"Your name; Why are you called 'Crash'?"  
"Oh, _that_." She grinned, reached for her backpack and pulled something out of a side pocket. It was a silver can of red spray paint. I examined it for a moment, then gave it back.  
"Your sprayer's nickname?"  
The can disappeared in her backpack.  
"It´s called 'tag'." she said proudly. "That´s how I sign my artwork. And by the way..." she made a face, "...who wants to be called "Caroline" anyway?"  
I didn´t think it was such a bad fate, but then almost everyone hates their names, don´t they?  
"What´s going to happen now?" I demanded quietly. "What's this whole portal business about? Where do _you_ come from? And how do you know so much about me and...well, everybody else?"  
She threw a glance at the end of the table where the X-Men´s conversation continued and shook her head.  
"Not here. Why don't we say goodbye and go for a walk? At least for another..." she checked her watch, "...10 minutes."  
"You mean, before we go wherever you came from?"  
Her grin lit her whole face.  
  
"Don't tell me you're scared!" 

-----ooooo-----

"You can't leave now. It's the middle of the night!"  
Crash shrugged.  
"We're just going ´round the block. In a couple of minutes we'll be 'off the street' anyway."  
"But-"  
Jean turned to look at the professor for help. He wheeled nearer to the main entrance. I leaned against the doorframe, feeling tired for the first time.  
What a day. And apparently it wasn't over yet.  
"You wouldn't consider resting a few hours and leaving tomorrow." It didn't sound like a question.  
"No." came the prompt reply. "Sorry, Sir, but we need to go. Thank you for the meal."  
"You're very welcome. If you're ever in the area, do drop by, please."  
  
"Sure." Crash beamed at him, turned around and walked past me. Her friendly nudge in the ribs almost made me topple over. "C'mon, Lars is going to kill me if we're late!"  
"Sounds like a real charmer." I managed through clenched teeth, then threw the group of mutants a strained smile.  
"Sorry ´bout the whole dimensional mess."  
  
Logan pushed Bronx´ paw away from his knee and hissed _"Sod off!"_ out of the corner of his mouth. When he saw us leaving the gargoyle actually obeyed and came running after us. A dark smear on his cheek told the tale of a chocolate bar being transferred from the pocket of a leather jacket into a greedy muzzle.  
  
Crash set a brisk pace until we'd left the premises. The street leading to the city was dimly lit and completely deserted. I enjoyed the fresh air once more. Only now, passing by a pine forest I realized how much I'd missed the spicy flavour of trees or the soft, moist breeze from the sea and I swore to myself that the next place I'd visit would not be a metal can in outer space, but some beautiful paradise of nature, with grass, flowers, trees and – above all – _real_ air.  
  
Suddenly the girl stopped and scanned the area. Alarmed I did the same. Everything was quiet.  
"What is it?"  
She shook her head and for an instant it looked as if it was covered in living snakes. Then the dreadlocks settled down again.  
"Nothing. It's a good place to cross over. Just checking for late night strollers."  
  
We continued the check in silence until Bronx sat next to me and leaned his head against my thigh, yawning loudly. A fit of laughter followed this unexpected noise in the semi darkness. When we weren´t gasping for air anymore Crash ruffled the gargoyle´s ears.  
"You know, I´d love to see Bester´s face when he wakes up and finds the remains of his boot."  
  
We stifled the new wave of laughter with our hands over our mouths, then looked around once more. Finally Crash turned to me.  
"The coast is clear. Let´s go."  
  
She raised her hand, concentrated and the same blue circle I had conjured earlier opened before us. Crash pointed at the vortex and raised her voice.  
"Go on. I´ll be right behind you."  
Bronx hopped forward without hesitation and disappeared. I took a few steps towards the portal, feeling the familiar sucking sensation. The first time I would use this thing without knowing where I´d land.  
Actually, no, not the first time. I remembered a strange dialog  
  
_I don´t care. Somewhere safe._ >  
  
when leaving this place last time. And I certainly hadn't chosen Babylon 5 as my destination.  
  
"What are you waiting for?" Crash urged from behind.  
  
Well, this was not the only curious detail about the portal. If I was lucky I'd get some answers on the other side of the blue vortex in front of me. On the other hand there may just be a couple of tentacle monsters waiting for dinner in form of a tender human...  
  
Grinning at myself for this and a few other strange thoughts I stepped forward and fell into the blue light.  
  


----------------------------- The End -----------------------------

  
  
Author´s note: Hard to believe, but I finally finished this story.  
Champagne can be picked up at the right side of the buffet table, next to the caviar bowls. Please help yourselves. ;-)  
  
Thanks for all the support during these months of writing, through writer´s block and stressful job situations. A big (BIG!) 'thank-you' to Obi, who stuck with me till the end. He did an awesome job correcting my spelling and grammar mistakes and even found time to give me an idea or two on the way! I said it before and will say it again:  
YOURE THE BEST!!!  
  
For those of you who are wondering about all the little things that don´t seem to fit I´m afraid you´ll have to wait for Chapter 8 (I know I told you the 'creature question' would be dealt with in this part, but it just didn´t work. Sorry, Olafur).  
  
I hope you had a good time reading "Chris´ Chronicles, Chapter 7" and will be around for the next.  
Take good care of yourselves,  
  
Wyrd 


End file.
